This morning I awoke alone in bed and found Catherine asleep downstairs on the couch; I hoped that it wasn't a bout of noxious flatulence in the night that drove her out of our bedroom, but it turns out it wasn't my fault . . . it was the squirrels in our attic keeping her awake (the other night she woke me up at midnight, she was banging our ceiling with a rubber rain boot to drive them out) and she claimed this morning, (half asleep) "They're building something up there, some kind of big thing . . . and I can't stand to think of them peeing and pooping up there, while they're building some kind of nest."
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