Chipmunk Vacuuming

I earned the Hapless Homemaker title about two years ago. Lydia was still a baby and I was adjusting to life as a SAHM. For some reason, it was expected that I take care of the house as well as take care of the baby. The grueling monotony (mothering is exhausting yet so repetitive) was wearing me out. I'd finally gotten Lydia onto a two-nap a day routine and she was sleeping through the night, but I was still so tired from the months of sleep deprivation. So on that fateful day when I took the HH crown, I thought I'd take a little nap, too.

Then I heard it. The sound of the cat door opening. Then the sound of the cat coming up the stairs to my room. Then the sound of some little critter squeaking! I sat bolt upright a bed and saw the chipmunk run for cover under my bookshelf. "Oh, great..." I thought while trying to think of a way to catch this chipmunk without waking up Lydia. And without actually having to touch it. Because, while chipmunks are cute, I didn't want to touch one.

Like a lightening flash, I was inspired by the Saturday morning cartoons of my youth. I just knew I had the perfect plan--I use the vacuum! In my mind, I pictured the chipmunk being held by the wand-tube thingy of the vacuum ala Bugs Bunny--he'd be held at the top of the wand, I'd grab him with my well-gloved hands and put him outside where he belonged.

I carefully brought the vacuum cleaner to my room and shut the door so I wouldn't wake baby Lydia. I made sure the chipmunk was where I left him--he was--and I turned on the vacuum. We both startled a bit from the noise--the cat was long gone, of course--and I approached with the wand-tube thingy (that right there should clue any reader in on my HH-ness.) But when I got the wand-tube thingy near the chipmunk, there was this big whoosh-thump sound: I'd sucked the little guy into the vacuum!! I didn't imagine that would happen--it wasn't going at all the way I'd planned!

I quickly turned off the vacuum and panicked in the ensuing silence. I hadn't meant to do it...I wanted to get the little guy back into the wild without chasing him all over the house with all of the crashing and banging that usually entailed. I felt terrible...I just knew I'd killed him. Being hormonal still, I burst into tears and called my hubby who had the audacity to laugh at me!!!
I quickly got off the phone, and then I heard it...this little scratchy sound: HE WAS ALIVE!!

After much fumbling, I got the cover off of the vacuum and discovered that the little chipmunk was alive and well inside the bag, so I grabbed some scissors, took the bag outside, cut an escape hole, and released him. He didn't walk right out...I kind of had to shake him a bit...he was covered in icky vacuum bag dust and staggered a bit as he wandered off into the shrubs. I can just imagine the story he told his little chipmunk buddies later that night.

So, the event was over. I'd actually succeeded in getting the chipmunk outside without touching him, but I've never lived it down. From then on, my darling husband has quite enjoyed the lore of my battle with the chipmunk. It was definitely the genesis moment of my homemaking haplessness.