It could be worse: a case in point

I'm in the winter doldrums, a bit, and it's a self-perpetuating cycle: I struggle to wake up and face the drippy gray weather; I haven't been to the gym in two weeks; I exacerbate that particular problem by self-medicating with bread. I was truly in a grim, glum mode, this morning. But a chat with Sis made me realize that it could always be worse--they're dealing with rats.

They've caught two, already, in the basement of the new house, with classic snap traps. I'm a little surprised at this, considering that Sis is a big ol' nature sap and once adopted us each an endangered manatee for Christmas. Of course, a big tub-o-lard manatee, floating about dreamily and getting konked in the head by reckless jet-skiing assholes, is much more appealing and sympathetic than...vermin. Sneaking around sneakily.

So. It is Sis's duty to set the traps; then she hovers about in the background while forcing Mr. Sis to dispose of the inevitable result. "Today's catch was a big one," she informed me. "And what was disgusting was that the pretzel/peanut butter bait was stuck in his mouth!"

And I suppose I am a horrible, heartless person, because this announcement caused me to erupt in horrified, hysterical laughter. "He looked really surprised," Sis commented, as I choked and guffawed and pounded my desk. "Like, 'hey, look, a pretz--' SNAP!"

Oh, God. Just think of it, y'all. The poor little filthy bastard just wanted a snack, and here was one, lying right on the floor! The cruel caprice of fate, all for a mouthful of peanut butter. Dude. My mood, by comparison, lifted considerably somehow.

I am just glad that my personal trainer has not set up some sort of punishing mechanism by which she breaks my neck if I abruptly lunge for a chocolate sprinkle donut.

Soulmates

Sis and Mr. Sis have purchased a new house, and just listed their current abode for sale this week. Already they have been besieged by agents, shoppers, and snoopers. Also something that rhymes with "snoopers." In today's IM/real estate ettiquete lesson, Mr. Sis proves that, while they have been wed a mere eight months, they are clearly matched for life:

Sis says:
man, someone crapped CORN floaters in our toilet!
Kim says:
hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaahahahahhahaah
Sis says:
[Mr. Sis] asked, "Did you poop???"
Sis says:
and I said, "No, not today....why?"
Sis says:
And he screams, "CORN!"