I just researched “nuts falling on tin roof and oak trees and North Carolina.” What I learned is that about every five years or so, one Oak Tree will drop 10,000 acorns.

So Sugar (my trusted Golden Retriever) and I don’t mind it too much during the day, but at night the Squirrels and other critters shake the branches of my big Oak Tree during their relentless collection process and the Acorns fall from the sky onto my tin roof.

The yard is almost entirely covered by Acorns because there are so many of them that all the creatures in the forest can’t eat them all.

A problem so I set my mind to dream during sleep about how I can stop the nuts from falling down on us. This morning I recalled my dream: Envelop my home in a tightly knitted, net dome. Leave a little space for Sugar and I to get in and out.

Now, where to find a net that big and a couple of guys to float it above the house and then figure out how to empty the Acorns onto a huge “chip” truck? And, find a sniper to take the Squirrels out, plus find more guys to blow the nuts into a huge nut mound?

Well, on second thought, I think I will just turn the TV sound up so that the 24/7 coverage of Trump going nuts will drown out the machine gun of Acorns falling on tin. The only problem though is that Sugar and I could end up nuttier than Trump and then I have to find someone to come over and apply psychiatric healing. Also, check our ears.

Enough Walter Mitty stuff! Sugar and I know that sooner or later Mother Nature will end the Acorn Storm. And, at the same time, we would appreciate if she can stop Trump.

Hey, I got it! We’ll bury him under a gigantic Acorn pile. I can just hear him under the pile and with a muffled voice claiming “This is the most fantastic Acorn Hill ever built by man and I’m the only person on the planet who could have done this. But, I’m not really under this pile of nuts. It’s a pile of nuts created by the Mexican Acorn Cartel.”