Little Squirts Merit Badge

The adorable, always humorous MBA Jane is my way of honoring our Sisterhood Merit Badge program, now with 4,945 dues-paying members who have earned an amazing number of merit badges so far—6,765 total! Take it away, MBA Jane!!! MJ

For this week’s Each Other/Little Squirts Merit Badge, my ears really thanked me. All my doors, windows, hinges, well, nearly everything in my life that could potentially squeak, was squeaking.

The good thing? Well, no one was going to sneak up on me, that’s for sure. Even my floor boards and stairs squeak, though I don’t think oiling them is the answer. It is, however, the answer for my doors. No more eerie wailing as I open my pantry—yes ma’am! That’s the stuff.

What’s the stuff? Why, my super-cute little oil can that reminds me fondly of the Tin Woodsman every time I look at it. Well, right after it reminds to actually fill it with oil and put it to good use … then it reminds me of the Tin Woodsman. I got the little sucker at a tag sale years ago and I’ve used it for watering plants, holding my pencils and pens, getting a geranium started, and just plain for looking cute in my decorating schemes, but I had yet to use it for what it is designed for: oiling things. Namely, squeaky things.

I knew I had a problem when the neighborhood dogs timed their yapping with the high-pitched squealing of my front door. I think they thought I was whistling for them. Or maybe their flappy little fuzzy ears hurt. In any case, it was time to pluck the miscellaneous things (hey, look! my missing paper clip collection!) out of my oil can and get to work.

It was a little like when I clean a spot off my wall … one spot leads to another and to another and to yet another, until I’ve gone around my whole house, in a fever, a crazy look in my eye, cleaning every smudge in sight. Yes. Like that, only picture it with me following every last squeak in my house. The front door led to the screen door, which led to my china cabinet doors, which reminded me of the kitchen windows, which were right next to the pantry doors, which led into the bedroom, the bathroom, and the back door, which reminded me of my extremely loud garage door, which gave me a good view of my bike … bike chains! Squeaky bike chains! No more. Just call me the Silent Cyclist. Able to sneak by you on the greenbelt like a phantom.

Though I’ll probably toot my cheerful horn as I pass so as not to give you a heart attack. Just call me the Semi-Silent Cyclist.

My house is so quiet now it’s very nearly creepy. Anything could tiptoe up on me and I wouldn’t hear them coming. This merit badge went from fabulous to nail-biting in 10 minutes flat. At least I still have my squeaky floor boards, which is a comfort.

You know. In case of zombies or bogey men or burly big ghosts.