Because Most of You Will Find This Disturbing

So Tim tells me I can have the afternoon off while he takes the boys to the gym. Visions of all the wonderful things I'd love to tell you about cross my mind as I look at my blank screen. Then at the sliding glass door behind it. And see this big Daddy behind the glass.

It's bigger, the camera didn't do it justice, heck, you can't even see the fur.

My mom's rule of thumb was that she wouldn't hurt a fly... unless it was on her property and didn't understand boundaries. I liked Susan's aggressive approach-- we would use these badminton racket type things to get 'em. They were from my mission in Taiwan, and the strings on the rackets were electric (found out later they are not legal in the US-- who knew?!).

Tell me, does it look 3+ inches across? Do the buildings in the background help? What about it's ball of thread that I could probably use in my sewing machine. Do you see the ball of thread, it was bright white and thick.

When Tim and I first got married, he assumed the bug killing role. I knew I'd love him for that. When he first assumed the role, I remember him throwing shoes at the pests (mind you, we were in Hawaii, and them things were on 'roids).

But alas, I was alone. I was going to let him get away. Then I saw him making his way up to the top of the door, that one day I'd open only to have him jump into my hair and make his home out of my Paul Mitchell Palace of ratted mess.

So I had to get him. It was him and me, me and him. A show down. I could tell he was a jumper, and wanted to crawl up my neck really badly. WHERE WAS TIM?!! In the past 6 years of our marriage he'd changed from throwing the shoe to stiffening his posture and going for it with vengeance in his eyes (and I swear he flexed his muscles-- but maybe that was just this damsel's version of the story).

So I did what any home alone mother would do that had to hold down the fort. I went to the cleaning supply cabinet. Windex? I always thought I'd had Greek in me. But I needed stronger. I wanted something with Chinese characters on it, something the FDA would disapprove of...

And I found it:

And went out to get him. Me and Mr Muscle, since my Mr. Muscle was at the Gym.

"Bring it on Suzanne. I know you're alone. You wanna piece of me?! How did you get your fur to rat so nicely?"


Me, Mr Muscle and the Book won (above is the book).

Side note: I read an article in High School about some sewer rats that were coming up through household toilets and entering into homes in Washington state. The article was giving tips on how to handle the situation if one came up (as they were working on steaming out the sewers). They compared one man's midnight method with a woman's midnight method. The man saw it, and angrily demolished his toilet with a sledge hammer. The woman poured bleach in the toilet, closed the lid and went back to bed. Both methods exterminated the rats... but isn't it funny how men feel a barbaric need to protect their homes---

Like the guy wanted to make an example of the rat and send a message to the rat world:
"Don't mess with Mr. Muscle's house!"