He's laughing at me. See?!?

We were hit with a hail storm the other night.  We were pummeled.

Miraculously Alex slept through the whole thing and was spectacularly pissed the next morning when he found out Lizzy was up for it.  There I was, running around the house throwing myself in front of windows yelling incoherently, "Not the windows!  Do you know how much I paid for those goddammed drapes?  Not The Windows!!!"  It was so loud I couldn't hear my husband telling me I was a whacked out lunatic and to get away from the windows before I got my head bashed in. 

We were pummeled to the tune of loosing one quarter of the roof, all the gutters and downspouts, exterior lighting, plus all the window trim and any exterior woodwork.  The west side of the deck looks like its been sandblasted and the two cars out in the drive were totaled.

I tell you that to tell you this:

My sister came over and took the kids outside to play on the driveway a few weeks ago.  They made beautiful creations and they had a blast with chalk and paint.  They were so proud.  She logged in some hours as Super Aunt and left feeling like a rock star.  They had fun and I had a quiet house.  I was happy.

Everything went away with the storm except for this asshole:  

My sister drew him with not so washable paints.  Even golf ball size hail at seventy miles per hour didn't wipe that shit eating grin off its face.  

Every time I go in and out of the house I run over it and see it grinning at me.  I know I shouldn't be subscribing life to inanimate objects but I know that little turd is laughing its ass of at me.