The squirrel that got into the transformer box in our neighbor's back yard.




So, yesterday afternoon, me and my three youngest were sitting in the living room, while the baby napped. There was this very loud boom. Seriously loud, and sudden. I thought I might have to spend the evening picking eyelashes off the ceiling, it startled us all so bad.

At the same time, the power went out. Just, gone. So, like any small town person, I go out on my front porch, where all my neighbor's were hollering to one another, "Did you hear that?", etc.

I wander around to my back yard, where a few people are gathering, and I noticed the transformer box had had the lid partially pried off. About 18 inches away, was a very crispy squirrel. The local police officer was already on his radio, telling the power company.

I am the biggest animal lover EVER, but seriously, I crack up every time I think about that explosion. That squirrel never knew what hit him! I'd go take a picture, but I don't want to come off as weird to my neighbors.

Well, no more weird than I already do, what with the cloth diapers flapping on the line.

His latest victim? The digital camera we bought in February. We bought that one in February because the old one broke. How it broke is dependent on who you ask. All I'm going to say on that issue is that it was broken before I took it apart and lost several minuscule springs and other assorted pieces. I swear I am not making that up.

Anyway, back to the issue at hand. The camera disappeared several weeks ago, immediately after my husband used it. Over the time since, we have completely cleaned, moved, decluttered, and majorly overhauled nearly every room in the house. No camera.

Yesterday, as I was doing laundry, I tossed a pair of hubby's shorts from the washer, across to the dryer, where it landed on the door with a heavy thud. My first thought was that it was his cell phone. Why I would even care is beyond me, because I can count on one hand the number of times he's both had it charged and with him since we got them last year. But, there I was muttering under my breath about how it better not be his freakin' cell phone sputter sputter...

I wish it had been his cell phone, because I was none too pleased when I pulled out a very clean, fresh smelling, nearly new camera.

Allow me to address a couple of points, here. Yes, I do laundry more that once every few weeks, and no, my husband does not wear the same shorts for weeks on end. What he does do is drop his shorts at the side or foot of the bed, then inadvertently(this is where I am giving him the benefit of the doubt) kick them underneath. So these shorts I found a few days ago, when I went on a cleaning spree under the bed.

Unfortunately, this is just the latest in a long list of mechanical deaths on our home. My husband(yes, I do love him) has singlehandedly ruined the following;

• A blender. This was back when he had several thousand gallons of tropical fish in the basement, and wanted to make some type of meal for them, involving whole fish, skin and all. Needless to say, fish skin does not blend well. It's rather like putting a sheet of rubber in there.
  
• Another blender. I think the theory must have been that the first burnt out motor was a fluke. That theory was disproved by the house filling once again with the aroma of burnt small motor and rubbery fish skin. In case you were wondering, no, it is not a pleasant smell, and tends to linger in the air, and cling to your person for quite some time.
  
• A mixer. I guess not everybody knows that if you put the dough hooks on the wrong way, they will pull dough up into the motor. Well, they do. This time the ambiance was of burnt small motor and yeast.

It's funny, too, because DH suffers from what my mother calls "functional fixedness". This means that instead of using something versatile(and easy to clean), like say, a knife, to chop, slice, mince, and peel, we have to have a single purpose(and a pain in the butt to clean) "gadget" to do each of those things. We have a chopper, a slicer, and a peeler, along with a milkshake maker(blender, anyone?), a hamburger grill(cast-iron skillet), a deep fat fryer(skillet, again), and on and on. I can usually prepare an entire meal with a knife, a pot(maybe two), and a few odds and ends. The same meal made by him will frequently leave the sink with a heaping pile of dirty gadgets, fistfuls of measuring utensils, and large mixing bowls. It is a complete mystery to me.

So, there you have it. While my husband may not end up on the FBI's most wanted, he is still a dangerous man to have in the kitchen.