Those of you with weak stomachs are going to want to forego this post.
In fact, I wish I could forego my life for a while right now.
I'm telling you, there's a big YUCK factor in what I'm about to share, but an even bigger yuck factor when you realize that we have to actually LIVE here.
We have a rat in our house.
A real live rat.
Are you grossed-out yet?
Saturday night Beve was standing in our kitchen when, out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement. An ugly-furred, long-tailed rat scurried RIGHT BEHIND him across our kitchen floor, straight into the corner of the dining room, where he tried to shoo it out of our French doors but it beat a hasty retreat beneath the radiator against the wall. The next morning we checked the corners and discovered rat poop in the corner of the living room by our large bookcase.
Beve put out rat poison, a trap, and we hoped for the best.
Sunday night, my sister who unfortunately chose this week to visit, also had a face-to-face encounter with the rat when she turned on the kitchen light.
I would have screamed, too.
Monday morning, Beve called an exterminator.
"We don't have any appointments available until next Wednesday," the woman said.
"We have a rat in our house," Beve answered.
"I'll have someone call you back right away."
An exterminator was at our house that afternoon.
We now have professional traps in our house.
Last night Beve saw the rat ON TOP of the bookcase.
We've been sequestered in our TV room ever since and I've named it Garfunkel.
My sister said, "If you name it, you won't want to kill it."
OH yeah? Just watch me.
Me, the pacifist. Me, the almost vegetarian. Me...PLEASE, kill this Garfunkel rat and I'll dance a jig. I'll dance to Simon and Garfunkel. I'll do just about anything.
And then we're going to fumigate our entire living room. I can't imagine how many of my beautiful books I'll have to jettison. Those are my books from seminary, my collection of CS Lewis books, our photo albums.
You know, nothing important.
The rat got in through the dog-door.
That's what the exterminator showed me. Sick.
Happens when the weather gets bad quickly, like it did here.
We're not going to use the dog door any more once the rat meets its end.
That's all I've got tonight.
No spiritual truth.
You know, I was never afraid of rats. I saw plenty of them in India.
BUT IN MY HOUSE?
Pretty dang yucky.