My husband and I watched Milk last night (thought the movie was very good but LOVED how Josh Brolin had me believing he was insane from the moment he came onscreen) and then Husband fell asleep so I went down to the couch because, really, how am I supposed to hear Saturday Night Live over that snoring? As I lay on the couch TWO ROOMS AWAY from the door to the basement I swore I could hear a noise down there so, keeping the remote in my hand in case something came rushing up the stairs that could be dispatched with a weak red laser beam, I stood at the top of the basement steps and listened while someone tried to FORCE OPEN ONE OF MY BASEMENT WINDOWS!
My husband does not wake up well so I actually stood there for a minute, listening, and wondering who I would rather deal with: my cranky why-the-hell-did-you-wake-me-up-when-I-just-fell-asleep husband or someone who is strong enough to force open my tiny basement window yet still skinny enough to slide through it. Finally I could take the noise no longer and I went upstairs (with the remote still in my hand because you never know when that mute button is going to start working like in that Adam Sandler movie Click).
As expected, husband was not happy and bitched and moaned about my overactive imagination all the way down the steps. We paused in the basement doorway and I made him listen and there was a THUMP and he went downstairs without a weapon to check it out.
Now, two weeks ago I was again treated to the sound of scurrying feet above the ceiling tiles in my basement which means only one thing; we have once again been invaded by a chipmunk. Husband pulled the trap out of the garage, made a teeny tiny peanut butter sandwich and slid the trap above the ceiling tiles in the basement. The next day I emailed him and said I did not hear they chirping and/or scurrying anymore and he wrote back that I should check the trap and I wrote back "That is SO not going to happen."
I had forgotten that the trap was still there.
Until last night when my husband yelled up the basement steps "We caught one!"
Being incredibly phobic I threw open the front door and yelled "Take it out the front! Do NOT come near me!" then ran and hid under a blanket in the family room. I heard him go outside then come in just moments later.
"You set it free, didn't you?" I said.
Either this chipmunk has been living above the basement ceiling tiles for the last two weeks (shudder) or he has been coming and going at his leisure (shudder even more!) and now he is outside, running around free, telling his buddies all about his adventures inside my house AND how they can get inside to check it out for themselves!
I am home alone right now; Husband took the kids to the Pistons game for Cub Scout day and there is a new sound coming from the basement. About every 30-45 seconds I hear a noise like someone is briefly running an electric screwdriver. I'm pretty sure those damn chipmunks have learned how to use power tools and have waited until I'm alone and when my family returns they will find my lifeless, acorn-covered body in the kitchen.
I will not go down without a fight.
Update: Crazy whirring sound stopped. At dinner we were discussing the chipmunk and how I thought someone was breaking into the basement, with my husband insisting that the chipmunk was "cute."
"No, dad," says Son. "Friend and I saw a chipmunk in the cage and he was so strong that he was banging against the cage and moving it!"
Husband and I look at each other.
"When did Friend come over?" he says. "Saturday morning?"
I can barely swallow my pizza. I turn to Son.
"You saw the chipmunk in the cage above the ceiling tiles in the basement when Friend was here on Saturday morning?"
"Yeah!" says Son.
There is a now a firm See-Chipmunk-Tell policy in effect in our house.