Today I went home at lunch to do some dishes and take out the trash, so it wouldn't be waiting for me when I get home tonight. Because I'm responsible. After tidying up my kitchen, I decided to start working on cleaning out my car. Might as well get a head start on my birthday list, right? Right.
So I'm sitting in the front seat of my car with the door open, shoving trash into a bag and bemoaning the fact that I still treat my ride like I did in high school, wondering how many of my coworkers have looked in my window like "what a piglet!", when I hear a noise. I don't think anything of it. Then I feel something on my leg, and I glance down...
AND THERE WAS A FUCKING SQUIRREL ON MY LEG.
A MOTHERFUCKING SQUIRREL. JUMPED INTO MY CAR. ON MY LEG.
What the fuck? WHAT THE BLOODY FUCK? Why? Did he smell the week-old french fries in my trash bag? Did he want to go on a ride? Did he want to eat my tender flesh? Did he just want to be friends?
I bet that's it. And I had to go and scream my head off and make him run away. We could have been the best of buddies and spoken squirrel to each other.
Oh well. Maybe next time.