Fighting Off Depression

Okay, I'm depressed. Anyone who has had her house torn up the way mine has been the last couple of years deserves to give in to a mild depression. The trick is to not let it get too deep.

My handyman's helper finally heard the squirrels in my attic (yes, there is more than one) and has moved the trap to a spot he hopes will catch them. I'm still upset by the fact a hole was cut into the bedroom wall and now it seems that's not where they are. I've never been in my attic so I'm not sure how it's laid out but apparently there are closed off areas, one of which is holding the damn squirrels.

Terry, Don's helper, has resorted to opening up the faschia (I don't know if that's the correct spelling or even the correct word) under the eavestrough with hopes the squirrels will exit there. If they do they'll come back again because that's the nature of the beast. I'm so sick of them that I'd agree to using rat poison at this point. The sound of them clawing at the walls is what's depressing me because I'm so afraid that sooner or later they'll get right into the house.

Faye got me out of the house this afternoon to help her buy curtain rods. It's lifted the depression somewhat because we had a good time. I think I'm just a little more vulnerable right now because I'm feeling helpless against the invading critters. If two grown men who know how to catch squirrels can't catch them then what can I do? They try to assure me the squirrels won't claw through the walls but my sister-in-law had a mouse come into her garage and find it's way into the space above her hallway ceiling and it managed to chew a hole right through it. If a mouse can get in I'm sure a frantic squirrel can get in.

Crap, now I'm depressed again.