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.
5 comments:
What she's doing is weeding out the dumb ones. :-)
Yep, then all that's left are the clever ones that saw all the others get snapped by the trap and know to avoid it while taking the pretzel or peanut butter. We have a daily snapping in the laundry room---they like to come in by pushing past the dryer vent hose that goes through the floor. Vermin. Gotta love 'em.
Okay - today is my first day in the new house alone...unless you count to two freaked out cats and terrified pooch that will not protect me from any vermin. We've taped the cat door to the basement shut, just so the bastards can't get into our living quarters. To date, we've caught 3 rats...and one foot. Yes, that would be 3 rats and perhaps, a 1/4 rat. Somewhere in my basement lurks a rat with a very bad limp. This made me feel awful when we found the foot dangling from the jaws of the trap. Then we realized that the critter broke our fancy trap getting out of it with his 3 good legs. Off to True-Value for another one. We ran into a gentleman who was buying the same trap, which made me feel a little better, knowing that someone else has uninvited guests.
He died happy. How many of us will say the same?
Of course, rather than a pretzel in my mouth, I'd prefer to be 95 and in bed with two 25 year old twins.
Hef, is that *YOU*?
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