Squirrel man

My sister made a remarkable impact in my life when she pointed out to me one day that I was trying to win an argument about squirrels with a homeless crazy man. I had just arrived in New York, having left a mean husband in the middle of the night, escaping with my cocker spaniel, $100 and my favorite jeans and sweater in a jeep CJ7. I arrived in New York at 5 a.m. and hit a horrible traffic jam in Greenwich Village on a rainy Saturday morning. When I finally got to the spot where I could drive around the object causing the jam, I saw that it was a 500 pound naked man, laying in the street, on his side, head resting on hand, with several policeman around him, each of them at a total loss as to what to do. I was thrilled, realizing that I had arrived at last in a place where I was finally free. The next day I took my dog to the park. Yo-Yo, she liked to chase squirrels but never caught any. She was happily chasing them when a man came over to me and very angrily berated me for allowing my dog to chase the squirrels. I tried reasoning with him, explaining that she never actually caught them, but he would not be appeased. After a few minutes, I realized my sister was standing next to me, hands on hips, head tilted, with a bewildered expression meant for me. I said "What?" She pointed at the man and turned her hands upwards. I looked at him closely, for the first time, and saw that he was wearing incredibly dirty, baggy clothes, had long stringy hair, smelled like my bathroom right before I just can't take it anymore and finally make the time to clean, and had a strange expression in his eyes. She just shook her head and walked away. After that day, anytime I tried to win an argument or justify myself to someone who just doesn't get it and never will, my sister smiles and says in her sing-song voice "Squirrreeelll maaann..." Anyway, it so happens that the man I married 21 years ago and had 3 children with, has indeed turned into squirrel man. I left him one year ago. Actually, I didn't leave him, my body did and my mind just followed. One day my body called a realtor and scheduled an appointment to see a rental house. When my body got home, my mind laughed at it and called it crazy. But my body persisted, and before I knew it, my body and my mind had packed up and moved out. And in the process, my husband turned into squirrel man. I have to keep reminding myself he's squirrel man, I even have a Royal Daulton figurine that my sister bought me of a man in an overcoat and top hat, sitting on a bench, feeding a squirrel. The man has an odd gleam in his eye. Nonetheless, no matter how many times I stare at my statue and repeat over and over silently to myself "squirrel man, squirrel man" while listening to my husband screaming on the phone, I still find myself trying to explain, justify, reason, get him to see my side. Or I try to figure out his motive in doing squirrel man activities. Like yesterday...my daughter who is temporarily banned from the house I rent because my landlord got sick of all the parties she was throwing every time I left for more than an hour, broke into my house this weekend while I was away. I found out about it and called squirrel man to discuss our little hellion's most recent antics. Later that day, he called me and asked me if there was a storm window missing from my house. "Why?" I asked. Squirrel man said he found one in our daughter's car. I said I would check when I got home. Squirrel Man called me about two hours later, "Did you check?" "No, I'm still out working, I'll call you around 4." Upon arriving home, I did indeed find that a storm window was missing. "Hi, yes, there is a storm window missing, I'll come over and get it." Squirrel Man says, "I threw it in the dumpster at the convenience store." "Why?" He answers, "Because I didn't know who it belonged to." I stare at my statue and sigh.