Nibble nibble

We haven't heard back from the bank or from Hallandale but we've started packing anyway. Winter clothes, books I don't want to read in the next month, and the few trinkets we own have found their way into empty diaper boxes. We decided to host a Going Away Game Night party last Friday night so that we could pack our board games next. We never got around to making dinner for ourselves before folks arrived but I figured that chips and salsa were healthy enough to suffice if eaten in substantial quantity. My figures did not factor in what that would do to the ph balance of my GI tract. When I came down with a migraine and acid indigestion an hour into my highly anticipated game night, I had to tap out of Settlers of Catan and crawl into bed to wait for my headache to pass. I did eventually fall asleep for about 3 minutes and when I woke up, the migraine was gone. I woke up just in time to dive into game 2. We had such a great time with our friends that we hadn't noticed the time pass. It was 3:30 am by the time we finished! The rest of them laughed it off but Danny and I were painfully aware that Dominic was going to be wide awake in 4 hours.

It was about 4 am by the time Danny and I got to bed and it was soon after that we started to hear what sounded like racoons dropping river rocks from our roof to the floor outside our window. Danny didn't care so much to see what was causing the noise but I am scared of the night (not to be confused with being scared of the dark) so I wanted to investigate further. Twice I tried to snap the light on and look outside the window to see what scampered away but both times I saw nothing. On the third attempt, I braced myself for an attack and opened the back door. (Mind you, Danny is still in bed). I looked around but there was nothing. Until I looked up. And saw IT. The underside of a medium sized rodent looking at me from the other side of the vent...IN MY ROOF. The mouse was inside my house. I spent what few hours remained of my night in anxiety, listening to the foul creature gnawing on my roof beams and eating through the drywall, laying a trail of mouse turds, propagating feverishly and creeping out to nibble on my children's toes and ears. It doesn't appear that that's what it did, but that's what I thought it would do. I've never lived in a house that, to my knowledge, had ever seen a mouse. All I knew about mice is what I'd seen in movies (all cartoons) and history (ie. they carry the plague). When I described the mouse to the man at the hardware store the next morning, he laughed and said, "that's not a mouse. That's a rat." A rat. Like the one in Lady and the Tramp that tries to eat the baby. My heart almost gave out. It wasn't until I expressed my horror to friends and family that it became apparent to me that having a rat show up in one's house isn't the exceptional cataclysmic misfortune I thought it was. And truth be told, I felt a little foolish. A little duped. A little bit like...maybe I shouldn't create real-world paradigms from cartoons.

So per the recommendations we found online, Danny baited a store-bought rat-trap with peanut butter and placed it as close as he could to the tapering end of our roof. At about 3 or 4 am last night, I woke up to what sounded like a shoe being dropped onto the other side of our ceiling, right over our bed. Danny climbed into the attic as soon as he rolled out of bed in the morning and retrieved the rat. A very cute rat. The trap had caught the rat by the tail and he squirmed to get free. The fierce hunter wrapped his savage prey in a garbage bag, removed the trap, and put him into our curb-side garbage receptacle, where I sincerely hope he will still be when the truck comes by tomorrow. I'd feel a little bad about it if it weren't that I still believe that, despite the furry facade, he is still evil .