What I Did on Ivy's Summer Vacation
Day 1: Drop Ivy off at the airport to visit her family for Passover. Drive home and get back to work.
Day 2: Work. The home office is quiet without Ivy around.
Day 3: Supplies running low. Flour plus water plus heat equals flat bread. A victory for science and industry! Plus, it's kind of like matzoh and that's seasonal. Back to work.
Day 4: Supplies gone.
Day 5, hour 1: Considering the supply issue. Sudden realization: Pine nuts are edible, and there are two pine trees in the back yard! Another victory for science.
Day 5, hour 2: (page is blank and bloodied)
Day 5, hour 3: Pine cones hurt to eat. Must reconsider.
Day 5, hour 4: Squirrels eat these things. Observe squirrels!
Day 5, hour 9: Fuzzy-tailed bastards are secretive.
Day 6, hour 1: Have made contact with squirrels.
Day 6, hour 2: Squirrel king is willing to trade the secret of pine nuts for the secret of pottery. They have been watching Ivy play Civilization through the windows! Fuzzy-tailed bastards are smart.
Day 6, hour 3: Negotiations going well.
Day 6, hour 4: The squirrel king has said we will seal the covenant of cooperation by marrying his daughter to me. My claims that I am already married have no effect. My statements that I don't swing that way are taken as speciesist references to my simian evolutionary heritage.
Day 6, hour 5: Great Squirrel War begins.
Day 7, hour 3: Squirrels got into the house and have stolen my laptop. Must have noticed I was looking up military strategy on it.
Day 7, hour 5: Desktop computer was too heavy for them to lift. Researching Battle of Marathon and Battle of Thermopylae.
Day 7, hour 8: Have built crude armor and weaponry from kitchen supplies.
Day 7, hour 10: Fuzzy little bastards have sharp teeth.
Day 8, hour 2: Have retreated to the hallway. Living room and dining room lost to tiny fuzzy enemy forces.
Day 8, hour 4: Counterattacking. Have made it through to kitchen. Taken everything sharp as war materiel.
Day 8, hour 4: Second Battle of the Dining Room. A thousand fuzzy little whiskered muzzles yelling "Molon labe!" is surprisingly terrifying.
Day 8: hour 6: Fighting retreat to the hallway. Squirrels demand surrender but I send the reply, "Nuts!"
Day 8, hour 9: Blockaded self in bathroom. Catch catnap.
Day 8, hour 14: Awakened by sound of artillery practice. Not good.
Day 8, hour 18: Reconnaissance has discovered the squirrels have the laptop set up in the living room and are watching "Legend of the Galactic Heroes." Uh-oh.
Day 9, hour 2: Artillery bombardment! Have retreated to the master bedroom.
Day 9, hour 4: Used socks from laundry as chemical weapon attack. Drove back artillery units.
Day 9, hour 6: Have reached preliminary accord with squirrels regarding chemical disarmament. Since they hold the kitchen, with its stocks of mixable cleaning materials, I consider this to be more to my benefit than to theirs.
Day 9, hour 14: Loud squirrelly cheering from the living room. This can't be good.
Day 10, hour 2: Awakened by low thrumming sound.
Day 10, hour 3: Five-foot-long armored space battleship is floating in the dining room. I knew that letting them watch "Legend of the Galactic Heroes" was a bad idea.
Day 10, hour 4: A "herald" from the squirrels lets me know that my house is too small a theater for their ambitions. They intend to take on larger conquests with their new space fleet. I recommend Somalia. There's no way the fuzzy-tailed lunatics can make it worse.
Day 10, hour 5: Dammit, I have to pick up Ivy at the airport and the house is a disaster.
Day 10, hour 7: Pick Ivy up at the airport. She says she's hungry and we should pick up some fast food on the way home. I smash my forehead into the steering wheel repeatedly because I'm an idiot.
Day 2: Work. The home office is quiet without Ivy around.
Day 3: Supplies running low. Flour plus water plus heat equals flat bread. A victory for science and industry! Plus, it's kind of like matzoh and that's seasonal. Back to work.
Day 4: Supplies gone.
Day 5, hour 1: Considering the supply issue. Sudden realization: Pine nuts are edible, and there are two pine trees in the back yard! Another victory for science.
Day 5, hour 2: (page is blank and bloodied)
Day 5, hour 3: Pine cones hurt to eat. Must reconsider.
Day 5, hour 4: Squirrels eat these things. Observe squirrels!
Day 5, hour 9: Fuzzy-tailed bastards are secretive.
Day 6, hour 1: Have made contact with squirrels.
Day 6, hour 2: Squirrel king is willing to trade the secret of pine nuts for the secret of pottery. They have been watching Ivy play Civilization through the windows! Fuzzy-tailed bastards are smart.
Day 6, hour 3: Negotiations going well.
Day 6, hour 4: The squirrel king has said we will seal the covenant of cooperation by marrying his daughter to me. My claims that I am already married have no effect. My statements that I don't swing that way are taken as speciesist references to my simian evolutionary heritage.
Day 6, hour 5: Great Squirrel War begins.
Day 7, hour 3: Squirrels got into the house and have stolen my laptop. Must have noticed I was looking up military strategy on it.
Day 7, hour 5: Desktop computer was too heavy for them to lift. Researching Battle of Marathon and Battle of Thermopylae.
Day 7, hour 8: Have built crude armor and weaponry from kitchen supplies.
Day 7, hour 10: Fuzzy little bastards have sharp teeth.
Day 8, hour 2: Have retreated to the hallway. Living room and dining room lost to tiny fuzzy enemy forces.
Day 8, hour 4: Counterattacking. Have made it through to kitchen. Taken everything sharp as war materiel.
Day 8, hour 4: Second Battle of the Dining Room. A thousand fuzzy little whiskered muzzles yelling "Molon labe!" is surprisingly terrifying.
Day 8: hour 6: Fighting retreat to the hallway. Squirrels demand surrender but I send the reply, "Nuts!"
Day 8, hour 9: Blockaded self in bathroom. Catch catnap.
Day 8, hour 14: Awakened by sound of artillery practice. Not good.
Day 8, hour 18: Reconnaissance has discovered the squirrels have the laptop set up in the living room and are watching "Legend of the Galactic Heroes." Uh-oh.
Day 9, hour 2: Artillery bombardment! Have retreated to the master bedroom.
Day 9, hour 4: Used socks from laundry as chemical weapon attack. Drove back artillery units.
Day 9, hour 6: Have reached preliminary accord with squirrels regarding chemical disarmament. Since they hold the kitchen, with its stocks of mixable cleaning materials, I consider this to be more to my benefit than to theirs.
Day 9, hour 14: Loud squirrelly cheering from the living room. This can't be good.
Day 10, hour 2: Awakened by low thrumming sound.
Day 10, hour 3: Five-foot-long armored space battleship is floating in the dining room. I knew that letting them watch "Legend of the Galactic Heroes" was a bad idea.
Day 10, hour 4: A "herald" from the squirrels lets me know that my house is too small a theater for their ambitions. They intend to take on larger conquests with their new space fleet. I recommend Somalia. There's no way the fuzzy-tailed lunatics can make it worse.
Day 10, hour 5: Dammit, I have to pick up Ivy at the airport and the house is a disaster.
Day 10, hour 7: Pick Ivy up at the airport. She says she's hungry and we should pick up some fast food on the way home. I smash my forehead into the steering wheel repeatedly because I'm an idiot.