Before you go all PETA on me, I'd be fine with capture and release, as long as they don't come back and poop on my sidewalk. Because they do. A lot. And it's gross.
So yesterday morning it's pouring rain, and Sheryl says, "Grab a broom. We're cleaning the sidewalks." Faster than you can say "soaking wet," we're on the sidewalk, Sheryl has a broom and has covered the area with dish soap, and we are pushing away bubbles and bird poop, not in that order.
|Not so clean sidewalks this morning.|
"You've never really worked a day in your life, have you?" she said, when we were done and I was complaining about getting my hair wet.
That's Sheryl. Ingenious. Hard working. Always coming up with solutions. Da Bomb. I married way way way WAY all caps over my head.
|They perch up there somewhere...|
We are supposed to get more rain this weekend. Somebody hide the dang brooms before I'm forced to do actual labor again.