I Have Rats

Or mice. I actually don't know, and does it really matter which rodent is in my home? or does the fact that they are bunking up with me and the three kids seem to be the real issue here. Fortunately the pest control guy (stephen) has stellar bedside manner,

"yup, you've got 'em." (this is why I don't know. "em" in my book could mean all sorts of things)

"they actually got into your Christmas ornaments (smiling)!"
I don't want to put a damper on Christmas, but I'd like to shout out a ba-humbug on that info.

*note to self. Ask Sebastian to get the Christmas box down. And take it outside. And sort through it.*

And on a seemingly related topic,

We rented Ra-ta-touille last week. It's really good. But this ain't Paris. And I'm the only one cooking. So, I'm still a little pissed about the rats/mice/miscellaneous in my attic. But please, do see the movie.

Enough Is Enough

Alright, so my husband has chosen the fulfilling career as a teacher. He has already reported for duty for the new school year and we are both thrilled.....except for the fact that he won't get a paycheck until the end of the month. We, being a family of 5, need that check -like a month ago. So my husband lovingly works at the restaurant to be able to bring home the bacon in our time of need. Granted, he is taking on more responsibility having to work both jobs and I recognize that sacrifice he has been forced to make for the sake of our family. Normally I'm fine having to silently (and by silently I mean whining to my girlfriends) know that I too in turn have to take on extra responsibilities when Sebastian isn't home. But tonight, when Sebi uttered the 6 words I dread most when my husband is gone, I swore that this was enough already.

"Mom, there's a bug over here."

Translation. Mom, come and get this bug out of my bathtub. This bug was a cockroach. I do not like cockroaches and that is the understatement of the century. I cry. I scream. I stand on beds and pant my way through their disposal... which is my husband's job. I don't throw many job titles his way. I'm pretty darn flexible as far as I'm concerned. Trash, I throw it out. Lawn needs to be mowed, no problem. "We need to take the door handle off because Sebi locked it shut again"- just bring me the screwdriver and a paperclip and I'm on it. But the bugs are SEBASTIAN'S JOB.

So I immediately ordered Sebi out of the tub ready to tell him the bath is over and walk away from this. Meanwhile, he is looking at me to actually solve this problem. So I head to the kitchen for a slotted spoon (thanks Megan for the birthday present 3 years ago) and a bowl, and I retrieve said roach and place in the bowl. I'm afraid I may have to burn them both now, and I am praying that when I finally muster up the energy to go and pick the bowl up, the roach is still in it.

Well, maybe not.

And Did I Mention That My Dog Sucks?

Apparently, my arch-enemy has revolted and is traveling freely in my home. *see previous post* I spotted him on the carpet and immediately turned every light on in the house, because the suckers only come out at night and this is just my way of reasoning that somehow he will disintegrate vampire style...

So as I am FREAKING out considering getting the bug spray, which would mean I have to walk (no run) past the blasted thing, my dog comes walking by and notices the roach. HA-HA, you fiend! You are toast! Yeah, right. Two sniffs and a sneeze and he went on with his business of curling up on my night robe and nodding off to sleep.

MY DOG.

My dog who I'm sure at some point or other has been secretly referred to by friends and family members as Satan incarnate. My dog, who snarls hair raised- and at times even bites at his OWN owners. My dog, who would protect me til his death at the wee hours of the night when I have fallen asleep on the couch and my loving husband tries to carry me to bed. My dog.

My sucky, sucky dog.....