2 June 2010

Rat rat ratty

I appear to be playing chicken with a rat in the kitchen.

Unbeknownst to me, I appear to have a primal fear of the little fucker. He ran out when I went in, then when I went out he ran back into the kitchen and under the fridge. I am absolutely goddam starving because I just got home at 9pm and am trying to heat up some curry I cooked last night, but the thought of mr ratty underfoot while reheating is making my stomach turn.

But I live on the 2nd floor, so I don't know how to encourage him out. Too late go and buy rat traps and the thought of emptying one tomorrow is disgusting too.

This is a moment when I could really do with a goddam husband. And I don't say that too often.

4 comments:

meririsa said...

You poor chicken. I can offer you vibes of sympathy from across the Eastern Suburbs public transport divide!

PS Husbands don't like vermin any more than you do - they just don't want to lose face by being as scared as a "traditional wife". But still, better than no one having the guts to do anything about it I suppose...

Still looking out for potential husbands for you as always... one of my neighbours is recently single. Nice guy but possibly a bit religious, but then, earns well and owns property. Hmmm.

Rebecca said...

Thanks Lisa. Hm, religious hey? Not sure that's going to work too wel... :D Maybe I actually need an exterminator!

Alison said...

A cat would cathch the vermin, snuggle up at night, but otherwise be less troublesome than a husband. :)

sympathy though. Mice I can handle, rats give me the heebie geebies

BSharp said...

Alison you have a point - but you have to clean up their poo and wee when you live in a flat.

My you my former human co-habiter wasn't particularly house-trained either. And at least if you make babies they can handle their own toilet business after a few years...!