Descendant of Typhoid Mary, no doubt.
Not that I’ve spread it to epidemic proportions outside the family, but I have it AGAIN.Ã‚Â
The doctor thinks it’s because of the weekly MS injections–the way they mess with my immune system.Ã‚Â So, with a new batch of different antibiotics I say Yay!Ã‚Â I get to skip my shot this week.Ã‚Â Maybe I’ll even feel like I used to for a few minutes.Ã‚Â Like that guy in that movie (Dustin Hoffman, maybe) who was mentallyÃ‚Â impaired and given a treatment that made him “normal” forÃ‚Â a brief time before heading back to impairment.Ã‚Â Maybe I should have a party, go to one?Ã‚Â Something to mark the occasion.
OF MICE AND MEN AND DISGUSTED WOMEN AND CHILDREN
I should have been blogging about this for two weeks but
- at certain points I was too disgusted and collapsed into mouse denial.
- I never thought getting rid of this recent set of invaders would eventually be described as epic.
- It’s embarrassing.Ã‚Â I think Beth and Jake told their teachers we have rats.Ã‚Â The teachers are too nice to inquire.Ã‚Â They’re still giving me the benefit of the doubt, I suppose.
We went away to visit my brother and sister in law after Christmas.Ã‚Â At time of departure we were mouse free (we have a service that takes care of the pesky invaders from the woods).Ã‚Â Out door feeding stations intact, they should have been obliterated for the winter.Ã‚Â But since we in Pittsburgh, now actually live in NC climately speaking,Ã‚Â the critters ate their fill, died, but theirÃ‚Â relatives didn’t learn from the first set’s stupidity.Ã‚Â Ã‚Â Ã‚Â Or they did andÃ‚Â said “screw the poisonÃ‚Â pellets, I’mÃ‚Â going for the mother load.”Ã‚Â Think Knights of Prosperity for Rodents.Ã‚Â Ã‚Â Ã‚Â
Like minature terrorists intent on killing me by making my skin actually crawl right off my body, exposing me to more strep–the kind that eats you alive.
Really, there is nothing grosser.Ã‚Â And everyone in the neighborhood has mice, but still, sitting at my computer, hearing them in the cabinets–how the shit did they get in there?Ã‚Â Well, from in the walls, under the dishwasher and then it’s just a beeline to the Wheat Thins in the snack cabinet.
Last year we got one mouse and then we got rid of it.Ã‚Â So, I didn’t call our service right away–they always say, they’ve taken care of it, just a stray mouse,Ã‚Â etc.Ã‚Â Or it was that denial thing at work.Ã‚Â
Eventually, panicking because we’d cloroxed out the same drawer and cabinet five times and hadn’t caught the SOB, I became hysterical and called them.Ã‚Â They knew it was me from the way my breath caught and the heaving sobs that were prologue to my actually speaking into the phone.
They’re nice guys, but they think this shit is funny.Ã‚Â And of course it is.Ã‚Â Now, mouse free, I can’t call up the disgust and skin crawling panic even though I know I can remember I was drowning in both conditions.Ã‚Â There is nothing grosser.
Well, except for the old fashioned traps that break mousie’s neck.Ã‚Â Even Bill was taken by a few dry heaves when removing that sucker.Ã‚Â Like I told him. If he kicks the bucket, I’m going to need an army of people on call to take care of the carcasses.Ã‚Â Or I’ll run screaming from the house, climb a tree and hide.Ã‚Â Until the giant black snakes climb up and join me in the terrace.Ã‚Â Then I’ll just die.Ã‚Â