February 7, 2011
The Squatters Part 2
On Saturday, my husband made face-to-face contact with the squatter living in our attic. When he climbed back down, he announced that our uninvited guest is a rat the size of a chihuahua.
"You saw it?" I said doubtfully. The crawl space is suffocatingly small and pitch black.
My husband didn't answer me. He just grinned broadly and pointed to his new head lamp, which he bought on clearance at T.J. Maxx a few days back.
The purpose of the bizarre purchase was suddenly made clear.
Having identified the problem, we were then faced with two ways of solving it.
A. Hire an extermination company. A neighbor recommended one that will guarantee the job for $100.
B. Spend all weekend buying an excessive assortment of mouse traps, bait, and lures and risking one's life and wasting one's valuable time by crawling into the rafters of our house at all hours of the day and night to set said traps and obsessively monitor them.
Before church, he climbed up there in his suit.
Cost of traps + time + suit cleaning + marriage therapy= >$100.
As you surely have guessed by this point, my husband chose the road less traveled and so far, it hasn't made a bit of difference.
I can still hear the rat (s).