Friday, February 5, 2010

In which I do not cope well

Is this becoming "that blog about the rats"? Awesome. Because, honestly, writing about vermin has been a secret ambition of mine. Becky asked for an update, though, and I must give the people what they want.

So right after I posted the update last night, I sat in our living room with my feet tucked under me and waited for Jason to come home. (Incidentally, my neighbor Jules, who reads this blog, emailed me this morning to check on me and said she thought she heard a scream, but thought it was one of the kids. So that gives you an idea of my volume!) So Jason came home within about ten minutes. He came in, sat down beside me and said, "Are you okay?" And then I promptly burst into tears. Like a little girl. A wee, little, crybaby crying girl. Do you ever have those experiences? Where your reaction to an event is completely disproportionate and irrational? You know that it's irrational, but you still feel how you do. It's like the rational, realistic side of me is watching the blubbering, snotty me. And the rational me says, "Amy, this rat is not going to hurt you or the kids. It can't hurt you or the kids. You will deal with this. It will be okay." And the blubbering me grabs the rational me by the collar and shakes her, saying,"Shut up! Can't you see I'm freaking out here? This is the most awfulest day ever on the whole planet and I cannot live in this house anymore!!!"

Do you ever do that? Yeah, anyway. It wasn't my most mature moment.

So, I've mentioned before that we have a massive pantry, and after some investigation last night, Jason determined how the *creature* is getting in. There is a pipe that comes through the back wall and there is a little space between the sheetrock and the pipe. So they're not actually living in the pantry, but there is a way in from outside. Jason left a trap last night, and sure enough in the morning, there was one less rat left standing. Jason called the rental agency first thing this morning. They've already sent someone out several days ago, but obviously there is still an issue. "Tell them that your wife is about to lose it!" I told him. "Tell them that I am nearly phobic! Tell them I am looking at other houses for rent! Make me sound like a total nutcase if you have to!" He nodded and said soothing words, like you do when you're talking to a total nutcase. I don't think it would be a hard sell at this point.

So that's the update, Beck. The hole is barricaded, the exterminator has been called, and I am calmer now. Slightly. But I still won't go in the pantry. Jason said, "But what if there's something in there that you need today?" And I said, "Then I will go to the grocery store and buy it." He nodded and said soothing words.


  1. You should change this blog's name to "That Blog About the Rats." I'll get in Scrapblog and make you a new header.

    I'm sorry, you poor thing! I totally get your wee crybaby little girl moment. And yes, it's out of proportion, that's how disgust as an evolutionary, adaptive tool works.

    I bet these are the nice rats like the ones who learn to read in Despereaux.

  2. Jason is a very smart and good man.
    I actually believe I have some degree of a phobia and would have reacted in the same manner or worse. Jason has already learned what it took Evan several years to learn.

  3. I think you handled it very well, thank you very much. Rats is rats, sistah. I probably should not tell you this, but my parents have a rat issue, too, and one (or more?) of them chewed a hole through their ceiling. You can hear them running in the walls. No worries, their rat guy is working on it. Are the rats bigger in Australia? From all the Australia PR back in the 80s, you know, "Australian Bee-yah," I have lots of Australian stereotypes. :-)

  4. Awww the poor rat!!

    I'm just messin'. I feel bad for you! I had rats as pets, but I wouldn't want wild ones creeping around my house.

  5. Jane said to tell you that if you tuck steel wool all around the opening at the pipe, they can't get through it. Sort of your own little barricade until the landlord takes care of the hole.

  6. Thanks, Judy. I'll pass that on. Jason had a long talk with the exterminator dude today, who also gave some good tips, so hopefully I will one day be able to re-enter my pantry. :)

  7. Girl, I'm feelin' your pain. And I think all good bloggers have a few posts about rats invading the dominion of the people. :)

  8. Oh! I definitely have those spontaneous waterworks moments! It's usually after I've been trying to suck it up, push thru some stressful ball of poo, and then Mark looks at me. If he then sincerely asks me if something's wrong, there's no turning back, I'm a boogery, teary mess.

    And I also often offer myself as an excuse "tell them I'll freak out, tell them your wife is mad..." Such teamwork we have lol!

  9. I once lived in an older home in Ocala that was frequented by a family of rodents. (A fact not disclosed by the realtor.) To call them "rats" would have been an extreme compliment. They were more like balding lap dogs with long spindly tails. After much trapping, sealing, and gnashing of teeth, the vermim were annihilated.

    Amy, fear not! I'm in agreement with Becky. Australian rats are "gentlemen" just like Despereaux.