Rats! or something
I absolutely must get out of denial and deal with the rats in my house. Must. Have to. No way around it because those rats are not getting bored and leaving. When I say rats, I mean at least rats. The other day one ran around above the kitchen ceiling and by the thudding and so forth it could easily have been a dog. Like maybe a cocker spaniel-sized one. Horrible wretched troublemaking thing.
Rats moved into my jam cupboard last fall and ate their way through everything edible in there, turned the entire closet into a rat toilet that you can smell from the front door of my house. Every morning there's an array of rat turds on the floor in front of the closet.
So what did I do about this awful problem? I bought rat poison. Did I set it out where the rats could enjoy it? No. Why not? I don't know. Theories. One: I'm chronically sick and could die at any moment and I don't like to nudge any other life form into my own predicament. Being sick and dying. It's not good. Two: I'm afraid to open any door behind which might be a rat. What if a rat jumped out and bit me?
Besides buying rat poison, I bought an Oust air freshener thing that is powered by a battery. I set it on top of the jam cupboard. Also I bought lots of paper towels and window cleaner to use in cleaning up rat turds. Wouldn't want stuff like that to sit around here potentially threatening me with bubonic plague. I'm already dying of several other things. No need to get completely ridiculous about the level of disease to which I expose myself.
Besides rats being smelly and scary and disease-ridden, what's the harm? Well, these wretched rodents inflict subtle damage which accumulates so I'm crazier all the time. It's very bad for a person to not be able to deal with life in a sensible timely fashion. From not being able to open the boxes of rat poison, I've gone downhill to not being able to open letters, can't leave the house and go for walks because I can't open the door. Since I can't go for walks, I'm getting insanely fat. Because there's a close link between obesity and Alzheimers, I'm getting stupider by the day. Since I can't open letters, I might be in trouble and not even realize it until police show up and batter down the door.
Am I making up all this? No. It's only too true that my house reels under a massive infestation of rats, staggers in place from the impact. My dog won't eat in the kitchen anymore because rats ran out of something to eat in the jam closet and now they're trying to chew their way into the dog food container which is beside Porque Choppe's dish. Every time I go to the kitchen, rats jump out of sight, from where they were chewing the dog food container into a closet of cooking implements, "Crash, thud, whammy," as they rush in among ladles, whisks, shredders, spatulas, etc. Everything I use must first be washed with hot, soapy water to get rid of rat urine and doodoo.
A couple of mornings ago I came downstairs to make myself a cup of tea and there on the toaster sat a big, fat rat. The rat looked me in the eye, calculating, trying to decide if I represented a big enough threat that the rat should go someplace else. Then it sighed, shook it's head, and slowly climbed down into it's hidey hole. It was thinking that any day now I will be so demoralized that the rats can come out of hiding, stop pretending to be afraid of me. As I said, I've just got to deal with this.
Actually, what it is, I need help. Anybody. If you aren't afraid to do so, I need you to come over and open those boxes of poison, pour poison into dishes, set the dishes where rats can get the poison. Then I need you to return in a few days to remove dead rats. I'm sure there's something I could do for you in return, something I'm not afraid to do but it has you buffaloed, like I could call up your mother-in-law and tell her she's a pain in the neck. I'm sure we could work out a mutually advantageous arrangement. I'm looking for volunteers.
rats oh+the+rats
Rats moved into my jam cupboard last fall and ate their way through everything edible in there, turned the entire closet into a rat toilet that you can smell from the front door of my house. Every morning there's an array of rat turds on the floor in front of the closet.
So what did I do about this awful problem? I bought rat poison. Did I set it out where the rats could enjoy it? No. Why not? I don't know. Theories. One: I'm chronically sick and could die at any moment and I don't like to nudge any other life form into my own predicament. Being sick and dying. It's not good. Two: I'm afraid to open any door behind which might be a rat. What if a rat jumped out and bit me?
Besides buying rat poison, I bought an Oust air freshener thing that is powered by a battery. I set it on top of the jam cupboard. Also I bought lots of paper towels and window cleaner to use in cleaning up rat turds. Wouldn't want stuff like that to sit around here potentially threatening me with bubonic plague. I'm already dying of several other things. No need to get completely ridiculous about the level of disease to which I expose myself.
Besides rats being smelly and scary and disease-ridden, what's the harm? Well, these wretched rodents inflict subtle damage which accumulates so I'm crazier all the time. It's very bad for a person to not be able to deal with life in a sensible timely fashion. From not being able to open the boxes of rat poison, I've gone downhill to not being able to open letters, can't leave the house and go for walks because I can't open the door. Since I can't go for walks, I'm getting insanely fat. Because there's a close link between obesity and Alzheimers, I'm getting stupider by the day. Since I can't open letters, I might be in trouble and not even realize it until police show up and batter down the door.
Am I making up all this? No. It's only too true that my house reels under a massive infestation of rats, staggers in place from the impact. My dog won't eat in the kitchen anymore because rats ran out of something to eat in the jam closet and now they're trying to chew their way into the dog food container which is beside Porque Choppe's dish. Every time I go to the kitchen, rats jump out of sight, from where they were chewing the dog food container into a closet of cooking implements, "Crash, thud, whammy," as they rush in among ladles, whisks, shredders, spatulas, etc. Everything I use must first be washed with hot, soapy water to get rid of rat urine and doodoo.
A couple of mornings ago I came downstairs to make myself a cup of tea and there on the toaster sat a big, fat rat. The rat looked me in the eye, calculating, trying to decide if I represented a big enough threat that the rat should go someplace else. Then it sighed, shook it's head, and slowly climbed down into it's hidey hole. It was thinking that any day now I will be so demoralized that the rats can come out of hiding, stop pretending to be afraid of me. As I said, I've just got to deal with this.
Actually, what it is, I need help. Anybody. If you aren't afraid to do so, I need you to come over and open those boxes of poison, pour poison into dishes, set the dishes where rats can get the poison. Then I need you to return in a few days to remove dead rats. I'm sure there's something I could do for you in return, something I'm not afraid to do but it has you buffaloed, like I could call up your mother-in-law and tell her she's a pain in the neck. I'm sure we could work out a mutually advantageous arrangement. I'm looking for volunteers.
rats oh+the+rats
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