OK, here’s the deal. I was flying tonight, putting in some time, and when I landed I called home to tell Robin that I was on my way.
She answers the phone in a near panic. What’s wrong, sez I. She tells me that she turned the light on in the bathroom and saw something scurrying across the floor. She begged me to come home immediately, because I need to take care of the “mouse”. Great, sez I. So I get in my car, and with only a pause at the bar for my St. Patrick’s Day sixer of Harp and shot of Bushmills, I haul ass getting home.
Well, I walked in, and she tells me that I need to get upstairs immediately. So I go, only to find that she never shut the door as I had requested, so this “mouse” could be anywhere by now. Anyway, I proceed to do a thorough search of the bathroom, and what do I find?
it
I find a little squeeze ball. I got it at a trade show a few months ago and gave it to Aaron, and he liked it so much that it follows him wherever he feels like going at the time. So I put two and two together, and here’s what I come up with:
She kicked the ball, which Aaron had left upstairs in the bathroom doorway, and simultaneously turned on the lights, and she, not recognizing the ball for what it was, thought it was some free roaming critter invading the house. Being the yellow dog of a cowardly cat that she is, she ran for her life without even giving a second thought to the possibility that she is a total doofus.
I know what she’s getting for her birthday. She’s getting a 55 gallon drum of Vagisil to treat her severe case of vagina-itis and a lifetime supply of heavy flow tampons. Friends, I have never seen a bigger wimp in my entire life.
Ah, but Dave, you missed the fun of watching her whip herself into a lather about this. I was on IM with her most of the evening, and I’ll tell you, it wasn’t pretty.
And now she tells me I’m not allowed to explain the fits of giggles I’ll undoubtedly be experiencing at random intervals over the next few days.
This is one female who doesn’t understand why other females freak out about little critters like that. I would have ascertained if the mousie was real, then figured some way to catch it live and put it outside where it would be happier.
:rolleyes:
A while back I was shootin the shi er stuff with an old army buddy, pounding beers and telling lies, when my wife calls and says hysterically that I had to come home. I pout and moan but finally gave in. When I got home, shes yelling about something in the laundry room. I roll my eyes and walk in and end up face to fangs with the biggest GD rattle snake I have ever seen. Thank god for Remington.
Yeah, and some men (real, live manly men) are terrified of “little critters like that”. And some people are afraid of snakes and spiders and dogs and cats and hand puppets and needles and birds and the dark and dying and large crowds and deep water and a whole shitload of other minor little things that you are far too brave to fear.
:rolleyes: indeed!
My house is being taken over by moles. I do believe I’ve enough of them to fill a small country, based on the pitter-patter of tiny mole feet I hear every single night. I used to freak out everytime I saw something in my house that was better suited outside (like the chipmunk in my living room last summer :shudder: ), but I’m used to them now.
A good buddy of mine got married a few years ago and told his wife to call me if there were any problems while he was gone (we both worked offshore), so I get a call one day “there is a mouse”, no problem, everyone is scared of something, I stop to buy traps on the way over and I get the covered glue traps (if she sees it struggling it would freak her out and spring traps are right out!). When I get over there she will not go into the kitchen, her college aged son will not come downstairs!, there was no mouse but there was evidence of a mouse, I set the traps and left. When I got home a few weeks later he buys me some beers and tells me that when the mouse got caught in the glue trap she spazzed and when I was not home SHE CALLED THE COPS!, the FEMALE officer that responded tossed the trap into the trash and my buddies wife made her take the trash out!, when my buddy went down to make a donation to the widows and orphans fund at the local station house the cops were still laughing about it “one mouse in custody”.
Okay, now I admit that I am of the dangleness gender–however, I am fearless, at least I haven’t been frozen in fear by some critter, scared out of a room, and scared to return to that room in MY HOUSE. I haven’t actually encountered anything that terrifies me, yet.
But I want to rag on my hubbie—let us see, spiders, needles, surgery, electricity, all scare him. :rolleyes:
I can understand healthy respect for potentially poisonous things, for things that DO sting, for being opened up then STITCHed close, and for a powerful force of nature. I cannot understand being terrified of these things to the point of fetal position.
In my defense, though, I kicked the ball into a shadow. It looked like a mouse, and while I’m not deathly afraid of them (I managed to stay out of the fetal position), I don’t want to confront them, either.
I am not proud of this… But about 10 years ago… When I was still married. Our wonderful cat at the time caught a mouse and was playing with it under the dinning room table. I have been afraid of little furry creatures ever since I was a little girl. Well I called the hubby at work( he was working at a car dealership at the time) and told him he had to come home NOW…Since he knew how I felt about this matter he was home a short time later to find me sitting up on top of the bar. While the kitty was just having a good time playing, Believe it or not have bought my childern a hamster but they know to keep it away from me… Since all that is, is a rat with no tail… I do not water it or feed it… It’s only chance of survival is the childern.
Am I proud of the way I act??? Sure why not…It’s me… and I am proud of me. No one is perfect…
when my daughter was about nine or ten, we had a rat–yes, a RAT–in our house. I simply could not imagine putting out a rat trap, so I did poison. Low and behold, the damn thing killed over under the frig. I wake up one morning, and tromp to the kitchen to begin breakfast and there is a huge, black rat tail coming from under the frig. Because of the way the bottom of the frig was configured, there was no possible way to scoot out the frig and sweep the damn thing into a dustpan and into the trash. Nooooo, this thing had to be picked up and lifted out from under the frig!
My worst Mommy Moment came when I talked my daughter into putting her hand inside a plastic Ziploc baggie and reaching under the frig and pulling out the rat. (“My hand is too big,” I told her. “Your hand is the only one which will fit.”) She pulled it out and dropped it on the floor with lightening speed, and it was neatly swept into the trash.
There was no way I was touching that thing, even with a baggie over my hand. Ugh.
I was coming in to tease Robin some more about last night, but y’all are getting mean with her, so I’ll hold off.
I won’t even describe how she begged me to put my cat in the car and drive an hour to come deal with the mouse for her. Nope, won’t go into that at all.
