Leaks and flying squirrels and cute hair

Yesterday was just another Wednesday at the children's museum. Except for the fact that it was pouring buckets. It rained the ENTIRE day. I know this to be true because we done sprung a leak directly in front of the front desk. First there were 2 little drips, side by side. That problem was solved when I put a bucket under them. Then there was another...and another...and another! The leak from the skylight above the front desk spread along a beam, measuring in around 5 feet long by the time all was said and done. One bucket turned into 2, turned into 3 and then 4. And then, before we knew it: *plop* ... *plop*

Mmmhhhmmmm...another leak. Enter buckets 5 and 6. LOVELY.

But that's not the half of it.

There was also a flying squirrel. A grandpa and a grandma brought their grandson to play at the museum. Grandpa looked like he'd had his teeth bonded about a dozen times. This grandpa looked like Donald Sutherland...

and had the quintessential southern draw that sounds refined instead of honky tonk redneck. He approached the front desk where my co-worker and I stood and said, "I proooobably have broken a few ruuuules heeere at the muuuseeeeum." Thinking he was making a joke about the fact that he was such an old man playing at a children's museum, my co-worker and I simply laughed politely.

And then...and then he showed us why he was breaking the rules:
He had a pet baby flying squirrel in his pocket!

He starts rambling on about how this squirrel likes to hang out in his pocket and sometimes on his chest just under his shirt and then says, "And if ya like crittahs, you can hold herrrr." And then I realized he was talking to me. Stunned, I held out my hands and he placed the squirrel in my hands, where she stayed for about 4 secods before FLYING out of my hands and back to the Donald Sutherland look-a-like. He said she'd "bonded" with him...whatever that means.

AND THEN he put the suirrel on my left shoulder. She quickly scampered across to my other shoulder and then DOWN my sweater. Yeah. Down my sweater. Thankfully she didn't bite me or anything. Mostly, it just tickled. But that didn't mean I wanted that thing down my shirt. Finally after a few jittery seconds the squirrel migrated to my right armpit, at which point I held my arm out and sort of jiggled it a bit, encouraging her to exit the premises. All the while, Donald Sutherland look-a-like is explaining that his little pet sleeps during the day and is NOCTURNAL, which means she's awake at night (thanks for the explanation, Gramps). I finally jiggled her down my sweater sleeve and then frantically said, "HERE!" and shoved my arm in Donald Sutherland's face.

And thus ends my close relationship with the only flying squirrel I'll probably ever meet.

Thankfully I got to leave work early yesterday to get a haircut--my first haircut since July. Yeah...kind of overdue. It's cute, bouncy, short, and curly. I like it, but I'm kind of afraid it's a little too close to Shirley Temple.

Que sera sera!