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I ran outside and looked on the roof and saw nothing. I went into the living room where The Husband was watching television and told him I thought there was an animal in the attic. He gave me a perplexed look like I was speaking some foreign language. Back to the art room I went. There it was again. Back to the living room. "Seriously, I think there is an animal in the attic!".
The Husband (aka My Hero) grudgingly got up and followed me out. The charging around had stopped and it now sounded like it was doing back flips above the water heater. The water heater closet is actually open to the attic in the top. My art room is in what was once an attached one-car garage.
The Husband put his hand on the doorknob and, not being a hero myself, I immediately retreated out the back door to the relative safety of the patio. He came to the back door and looked at me. I replied to his look with "Oh my gosh, what are we going to do about this??". That is the Royal We, of course, meaning him and not ME. Trying to be helpful, though, I said "What would Clark Griswold do?"
"Clark" armed himself with the big garage broom, used my new rolling cabinet to block the stairs to the kitchen, and WENT IN. I propped open the back screen door and stood outside offering words of encouragement like "eeeeek" and "don't let it get up the stairs".
He opened the closet door and commenced flailing about with the broom. Whack, whack, poke, poke and out runs a very dazed and confused squirrel. Panicked racing around in circles ensued. The squirrel, not The Husband. He used my folded McGuiver light box to block it's path and herd it out the back door where I made my contribution by clapping my hands and saying "shoo, shoo".
Today he will be checking the screens on the attic vents. My Hero.
