Saturday, January 06, 2007

 

We Have a Confirmed Visual Sighting of The Enemy


The enemy with which, fortunately, we were not sleeping, despite the pretzels.

I got home from work late this morning at 6:45 or so, due to My Evil COWorker's 8-minute tardiness (please note, he's sick as a dog and should not be chastized for this. He was too busy barfing to get there any earlier and the fact that he showed up at all makes him a candidate for sainthood. I'm just being a bitch 'cause he reads this blog and if I'm too nice to him he'll think he's terminal or something).

Anyhow, I usually stay up for a bit after I get home from work (a bit of what? you may well ask. I'm not telling. Perverts), but knowing that I had to get Her Surreal Highness out of bed and prettified later this morning for her trip to the pantomime with her grandparents, I decided to go to bed right away. The extreme exhaustion also weighed fairly heavily in the making of that decision, but I digress.

I couldn't for the life of me get to sleep for an hour or more. Must have fallen asleep, oh, 8-ish, only to be awakened at 9:15 by a distinct, unmistakeable gnawing sound. The Giant Rat-Bastard was outside the bedroom door, trying to gnaw his way in!

Fortunately I had placed my daughter's very own Rock Star Fake Fold-Up Directors Chair up against the door, thereby rendering it unopenable by a rat, even one as large as my husband claimed this one to be. (The size of both of his fists, he said with relish, when describing the intruder to me over the phone.)

I tried to go back to sleep, but knew I would never be successful while He Who Would Gnaw My Face In My Sleep And Possibly Also Poop In The Merino lurked mere inches away, no matter how thwarted in his desire to break down the bedroom door and perform a facectomy. I grabed a Rubbermaid tub (everyone knows that the rat's only natural enemy is the Rubbermaid tub), put on some shoes, and set out on my brave quest to bring the beast to its knees, without having it bite mine.

I digress, yet again, to mention that I don't really have "normal" pajamas. Anyone who knows me or has read even one of my posts will find this startling as I'm usually so conventional and organized, but there you go.

So picture, if you will, a middle-aged woman in a green tartan flannel shortie nightshirt (with long sleeves ... why would anyone make a stupidly short nightshirt with long sleeves? The world never ceases to mystify me). Um, where was I? Oh yes, this sack-like yet startlingly sexy nightshirt, some boxer briefs that I think I might have bought for my husband but that didn't fit him so I snagged them for my own and some sturdy black walking shoes. Sans socks. Waving a Rubbermaid tub fearlessly about. Oh yes, and I had a broom in my other hand. You know, just in case.

I slunk into the foyer outside my studio (it's really sort of a small hallway with an unfinished cupboard, an un-hooked-up laundry sink and some boxes of stuff dumped in it, but if you give anything a French name it sounds sexier, so "foyer" it is) and looked about for the ravening beast. A scuttling noise from above my head made me look up sharply, only to be confronted by a small (very small) black face peering nervously down from the top shelf of the cupboard. The owner of said face made a very hasty retreat, and in fact did so in such a manner as to make me think "well, if there wasn't mousepoop on that shelf before, there is now."

That's right. The Great Face-Gnawer of Aught Seven is one small black mouse. A few inches long, and more frightened of me than I was of it.

Giant rat, my arse.

I went back to bed. I'm certainly not thrilled about having a mouse around, but really. Dude. I had to work again this afternoon, and another hour's sleep was far more important than a little mouse-slaughter.

I'll think about it tomorrow. After all, tomorrow's another day.

next: i proudly display the first two finished objects of 2007 if blogger will let me post photographs.

Comments:
Congratulations, but I say call pest control anyway.

Also go around and find possible entry points, such as the dryer vent, and find a way to block them. Years ago in a different house, a rat chewed his way through the vent hose; I used a piece of aluminum that was pierced with holes to block my dryer vent. It meant I had to take the hose off and clear out the lint every month, but it was worth it.

I eagerly await photos.
 
I'm sure you will be victorious over your enemy. You. are. Rabbitch. Mice cower from your power.

I too have a mouse (yeah, singular. Sure.) in my house. Obviously, I've been using all the wrong weapons. Must bring out the Rubbermaid tubs.

As for your night wear, the shortie nightshirt with the long sleeves seems perfectly logical to me. I have two-piece pajamas, of which I usually just wear the tops. Things around my legs drive me nuts through the night. And long nighties get all tangled up and I feel leg-strangled. But I keep it cold in the house at night, and I sleep with my arms outside the blankets, so the long sleeves keep my arms warm. See, you're not wearing the wrong jammies, you're just wearing my jammies.
 
Yeah, what's with those long sleeves. Find holes...stuff them with those balls of steel wool...daughter had some major rat problems, due to lots of neighbors leaving dogfood out..steel wool...stuffed in the holes you find.....works. As far as keeping them out.
"love them little mousies, mousies what I loves to eat, bite they little heads off, nibble on they tiny feet"
just where are the fucking musical note keys on the keyboard anyway!
 
What I love best about that story (besides "Great Face-Gnawer of Aught Seven") is that you actually purchased said shortie nightshirt despite thinking it's really weird.
 
ahem, have you been holding out on us? "the size of two fists" ~his~ fists? You didn't tell us he was a little person......
 
oh, miss scarlett, you slay me!

my choice of nightwear is usually just a long t-shirt in the winter. in the summer, commando style.

carry on.
 
Maybe what you saw was one of your husband's giant rat's many, many little baby rats.

Nah, just joshin'.
 
Huzzah! Not a rat! You can put a little peanut butter on a cracker, and give him a nice lunch as he crawls into a live trap. If'n ya want to.
 
I'm going to go out on a limb here, and say: Mouse -- rat -- pttoey to both. They both gnaw stuff (including yarn), they both carry ticks (which, as I know to my chagrin, can cause evil Lyme disease), they both spread foul little poops all over. It's coy-tains for you, Rodent.

p.s. Is is absolutely necessary for folks with disgusting illnesses that involving spewing to show up for work? Can they not recover at home, thus sparing their co-workers the likelihood of catching said germs?
 
Were you, perchance, also wearing the satin panties on your head? That probably would scare the shit out of the poor thing. :-D

I'm with Carol on the sick coworker thing. I'll admit to going in when I have a cold, seeing as how I'm the only doctor on shift, but I draw the line at puke or fever. Then my ass is staying right in bed (or next to the toilet) where it belongs.
 
Shit, for a mouse all you need is a Cool-Whip tub! I would know :)
 
OMG, is said FO gonna be a pic of the dead mouse?
 
Let me just say that reading your description of yourself in your rat assault commando gear should not be done while eating a lunch of split pea soup. It is a huge waste of very good homemade soup and makes a god-awful mess of my office keyboard. The laugh it gave me, once I stopped snorting pea-green soup, was worth it.
 
I had a similar experience with a chipmunk (that my cat brought into the house in a stunned, immobile, seemingly dead state). I was wearing a black watch plaid flannel bathrobe and cowboy boots. Equipment included a trashcan and broom.
 
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