My friend came over yesterday to knit. I crocheted. I showed her the big box of yarn I got for my 2016 temperature afghan – version 2.0. Because I started one, but found another pattern I liked more, which required different yarn and well, yes, I have a problem
However, I now have spare cheap yarn to throw at Maura, as she loves to play with yarn too.
Anyhoo, I’m crocheting away, trying to catch up, as my friend (not Jen, Jenn, or Jennifer) is working on her own knitting project. Basically, we sat across from each other, doing things that mystified ourselves – I’m impressed with her double-knitting, she is trying to figure out my witchcraftery with a crochet hook.
As we chat about life and stuff, all of a sudden, my friend says “Um, what is that over there?”
I’m all “Huh?”
“Over there, in that corner.”
I get up and go around the table – ours is an open plan living/dining room, and the corner of which she spoke of was holding a square pouf that had sprung a leak, and an Ikea bag.
“Is that a snake?” she says suddenly.
I immediately teleport twenty feet in reverse. My brain starts running 30 miles a second – a snake? What kind? OMG, it’s probably poisonous, because I’ve never seen a harmless snake here, OMG, how the hell do we get a snake out of here? What if it hides?
“Just kidding.” she says.
Because she’s horrible. It’s why I like her.
“There is something over there though, I heard something.”
Now my brain is all “What if it’s a mouse? I hate mice.” My friend goes over, lifts the Ikea bag off the pouf…and does find a rodent-sized creature. However, it’s our rodent-sized creature. as Sky the Tiny Wonder burrowed up onto the pouf under the Ikea bag, making all sorts of rustling noises along the way.
This led to me telling her how much I hate mice, how one jumped out at me when I was 12 and opening a kitchen drawer, how my mom then called the exterminator and had to explain that the chemicals he used needed to be safe for our dog and two cats (all three obviously useless, as the mice would cross in front of the sleeping dog to eat out of his food bowl), and how the cat we had used to actually catch mice.
“Oh God, the cat didn’t bring you the mice, did he?” my friend asked.
“No…but…OMG! I can’t believe I forgot about this!”
See, our house in Michigan doubled as a wildlife refuge. I watched a snake crawl up between the siding and the foundation of the house one day. We had a toad living next to the back door. We had bats fly through on multiple occasions. Moles terrorized our front yard. We also had mice, which, after everything else, didn’t seem to big of a deal. Not after bats. And the cat would take care of them, which would leave me going “EW!” and Josh going “Good cat! Earn your keep!”
But one morning, early morning because these things always happen at the crack of stupid, little boy Sean entered our room. He was in second or third grade. I woke up instantly.
“What’s up Sean?”
“I think the cat killed a mouse.”
I start nudging Josh, because I don’t deal with dead mice, especially not half-asleep.
“Where’s the mouse Sean?” I asked
“Well, it was in the bathroom…” he began.
And I looked at my son. My son, who’s carrying something shrouded in toilet paper in his hands.
“OH MY GOD ARE YOU HOLDING IT?”
Josh jumped out of bed as Sean did the “yeah why?” oblivious boy thing, and I did the “ew gross” mom thing. “Take that into the bathroom, put it in the trash.” Josh directed.
“AND WASH YOUR HANDS REALLY GOOD. TWICE!” I shouted.
So yeah, I don’t deal well with critters in my house. I’m so happy I have a husband and sons who do.