The Magrilless Blog: Untitled

Yes, so we had a rat in the house. It started about a month ago when we called the exterminator to set traps for mice. They'd eaten out of some of our dry goods in the kitchen and upstairs where we keep our extra boxes of cereal etc. So the guy came and laid his sticky pads in the basement where he thought they were spending most of their time and in the kitchen, and we set some extra snap traps and tricky homemade bottle traps for extra measure.

About 3 weeks later -- after having reset many traps that were detonated, throwing away some sticky traps that were just debris covered, and putting ever single piece of food either in the refrigerator or in a tin can -- we were still hearing scritchy-scratching in the walls. So we left the beast-hunter dog at large in the house over night to guard us. And she did her job admirably. There was quite a skirmish at one point, and then she got our problem cornered in one room. She never left her post all night or the next morning. Good dog.

So our mental health assignment for the day was to "take the risk." Alrighty. I'm a strong, modern woman and I can handle a little mouse, for heaven's sake. Plus he's probably not really there anyway. So I moved the furniture away from the walls. And screamed. And snatched up the baby. And ran out of the room. And closed the door. And stuffed a towel underneath. And called the exterminator back. Because, dear friends, there was a rat now locked in a room in our house. A rat.

A series of very unfortunate miscommunications later (and more than 24 hours later, I might add), we had the technician at our house sneaking into the room in question and laying traps. Am I just old fashioned? Or have I been watching too much King of the Hill? But since when do exterminators just go in, set a trap, and say "call me when you smell something and it's dead"? Really. I want you to go in, with your shotgun cocked, or at least your net unfurled, and chase the sucker down. Come on. I have a rat in my house!

So, we checked in on progress a couple times, ascertained that the situation had been rectified, and called the exterminator back to, um, remove the, um, unfortunateness. They said they could come in two days (again, really?!), so Bill gallantly performed the necessary task and our house was once again rat-free.

We have now spent the past week completely -- and I mean completely -- cleaning the house. We started at one end and went from top to bottom with bleach and wipes and windex and mops. Then we went to the next room and went from top to bottom. And then the next. And the hall. And then The Room. Every fabric laundered and dry cleaned. Every stick of every inch of furniture disinfected. Every window and base board ledge scrubbed. Every wall and picture frame wiped. Every square foot of hard wood floor swept, mopped, and hand-scrubbed on my knees. With bleach. Twice. The only thing we have left to do is behind the refrigerator.

We have the cleanest house for Christmas you've ever seen. You could eat Christmas dinner off the floor if you wanted to. We have every single hole in the foundation blocked. All the pipe chases are foamed in. All the radiator entrances and outlet holes are stuffed with steel wool. We are rat-free for Christmas and forevermore.