Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Don't Be So Sure (of yourself)

There are many things about RJH being gone that don't phase me. I can get dinner on the table, get a kid to cub scouts, get a shower, keep up with the laundry, clean and make enough bottles to make it smoothly through the day. It's just not a big deal.

But there are things that shake my part-time-single-mom confidence and they always happen when he's traveling; like when the pilot light went out for the first time; or the time my oldest decided to spray the garage down with water; or all the time I spent battling with the school two years ago.

I had another moment.

Sunday RJH left for a trade show, returning on Thursday. This is some of the longest travel at one time that he does. I'm not bothered by it. Until I start hearing what sounds like a bird building a nest in the eaves above my studio. And then it starts to sound like it's in the laundry room. And finally it sounds like it's somewhere in the foyer. You know what this means. We have a critter somewhere in the duct-work. Shit. If there is one thing I absolutely hate, it's mice. And we seem to stir them up all the time. I'm sure all the digging in the yard didn't help matters.

So I call RJH, because really, I don't know what to do. We devise a plan to call the exterminator on Monday. I barely slept on Sunday night, and I don't mind admitting I brought the baby to bed with me as I had convinced myself the critter was in the kid's room.

Monday I went out to breakfast with some family that was in town and got them all packed up and on their way north. It was great to see them. In fact, I had forgotten all about the little critter. I went downstairs to retrieve my phone and call the exterminator when, I saw it. Dead on the foyer floor, as if it had fallen out of the ceiling vent, was a tiny little grey mouse. Blurg! This means I have to dispose of it (and before my whippet becomes aware that gifts of mice are falling from heaven). I poked it with the broom to be sure it was dead, praying that it wouldn't move. It didn't. It took all my courage to scoop up that carcass and toss it outside. Why do these things make me so wiggy?! But I did it. And there has been no more skittering in the ducts, which means I am able breathe and sleep again.

As RJH said, at least now I know where it is. There has to be an easier way.

1 comment:

Ket said...

Rob has experience with this sort of thing -- you shouldn't think twice about giving us a call!