Intelligent weasels
UPDATE! According to a local exterminator, there ain't a rodent to be found in our basement. Can you say Second Opinion?
Hey, so, what are you supposed to do when you have unidentified rodents squatting in your nowhere-near-ever-going-to-be-finished, 112-year-old basement?
Jon and the kids' idea was to set out mousetraps slathered with peanut butter. Jon continues to text and email from Chicago requesting updates on said varmints.
Today I was able to offer Gil's report: I've got bad news. Nothing dead and the peanut butter on one of the traps is almost gone.
When anyone, including the exterminator who finally returned my call last night, asks me what I've actually seen, I am quick to reply, "You're kidding, right? I'm not supposed to really know. Right?"
Exactly. My idea to eliminate the basement dwellers is to hire in the experts. If you ask me? I'm not expected to spelunk looking for these intruders, headlamp lighting my way. Just ask Molly what happens when a bee (?!) buzzes onto my head as I'm breaking down the collection of mailing boxes I've collected at the base of the basement stairs.
Lucky for these little pests I'm mindful of toxic chemicals that can effect my kids' reproductive systems. And at this point, I'm pretty sure I'll be setting up rodent-sized picnic tables covered with a punch bowl, assorted appetizers, a vast collection of chronological family photos on foamcore picture boards, a tri-fold senior picture portfolio, and CONGRATS GRADUATE! mylar balloons when we're ready to celebrate the youngest rodent's graduation from high school. He's on scholarship for his near death escape peanut butter licking. West Point sees great potential.
1 comment:
that's awesome
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