There's a Chipmunk In My Toilet and My Hair is Turning Gray

I've decided that that's going to be the title of the next book I pitch. Barring that, maybe a country-western song. Barring that, that's what I'll be singing to myself holed up at my writing desk with a good beer, perhaps one too many.

Really, though, there was a chipmunk in my toilet.

Usually when you hear the words "and it's trying to swim" coming out of your child (in reference to anything living or previously living in some kind of perilous situation involving liquid), really what it means is "it's dead as a fucking doornail." But no! In this case, the chipmunk was very wet and exhausted, but definitely among our living chipmunky friends.

I did not get a picture of him in the bowl, as I was busy rescuing him. I will cite this to prove that I am a compassionate person.

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