I have freely admitted that I suck at most of the things that wives and mothers are traditionally good at, like cooking, cleaning, laundry, and having emotions.
But the ONE domestic-ish thing that I USED be able to do was grow tomatoes.
Until this year, when EVERY SINGLE TOMATO got stolen right off of the plants. At first, I thought one of my neighbors was playing a joke on me. Then I thought Manager Dad getting even with me for something I've done to annoy him lately. And then I thought it was a raccoon.
So I tried chicken wire, scarecrows, the sprinkling of dog pee, hexes. Nothing worked. Every time a little green tomato would sprout, it would be plucked off of the branch by the next morning.
Now I realize it was you, squirrels. And today was the last straw. It's one thing to steal, another thing to taunt me with the remains of your theivery:
Game on, you little shits.
Oh. P.S. Happy Anniversary, Manager Dad.
No need to click - today's sadism is all above the fold.
