Friday, December 11, 2009

rats. or mice. or something.

When Aaron found the shoes filled with dog food in the basement this morning, our first thought was...Dylan. That was our second, third, and fourth thought too, given her penchant for stashing the remote in her kitchen set and the gps in her tote bag. I was looking for my school ID last night and digging through her stashes of stuff seemed as reasonable a thing to do as checking my backpack. But then the questions started. How did she get that much dog food into the basement? When was the last time she was even in the basement, anyway? And has she ever been down there unsupervised?

I suggested that Aaron check if the bags of food we store down there were okay. No, no they were not. One had been...compromised. This is especially unfortunate given the astronomical cost of Snuffy's food and the amount of effort required to obtain it (I know what day of the week the shipment arrives at the store, if that tells you anything)(It's Tuesday). But that is another issue. Given our recent acquisition of Ollie, we were not in the market for any extra creatures in the house. Several hours later the nice man from the exterminator was in our home taking care of business. Aaron noted that it is a little embarrassing to have the PEST CONTROL truck in one's driveway. It's just as well though, given the increasing effort we were having to exert to ignore the scurrying in the wall behind the fireplace. Well, not ignoring, per se, but passively waiting for the other member of the marriage to figure out which exterminator to call.

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