Rats@home
Kelly Lee | July 18, 2001
Eww Eww Eww. Scott, I am never coming home. Sorry. I'm going to live forever in this free food, free rent, free air conditioning house for ever and ever. Or at least till my parents come home. Whichever comes first.
Anna Gregoline | July 18, 2001
Hey - I would rather have rats than cockroaches. I'd rather have neither, but at least rats are in the mammal family.
Scott Hardie | July 18, 2001
True, but cockroaches don't bite your feet if you get too close. I'm in my pajamas and I'm wearing boots.
Kelly Lee | July 18, 2001
Nope. Not coming home. You know I don't like shoes. I don't care if they are in the mammal family.
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Scott Hardie | July 18, 2001
There are rats in my house. I saw one on Monday and one on Tuesday.
All night Monday I kept hearing chewing and rattling noises around the office, but I didn't see one until 3:30am. It was small and white and darted across the room after making some noise by the trash. I thought it might have been a hallucination, so I set out some cold cuts and went to sleep. The next morning, the meat was untouched. Hmm, I imagined it.
I was chatting with Anna on AIM tonight, waiting for a terribly huge file to transfer, when I heard some squeaking near my feet. The ventilation opening is right under my desk. I looked down just in time to see a small black rat, obviously a baby, pop up out of the ventilation and scurry behind my desk.
Kelly, to her good fortune, is in St. Charles this week.
Since the ventilation system obviously all originates from the basement, I thought of the few bags of trash we have stacked at the top of the basement stairs, on the landing. (Well, where else are we going to put them? Raccoons knock over our garbage can every night, whether it's full or empty.) Sure enough, when I opened the basement door, I could see a few holes that the rats had chewed in the garbage bags. It's garbage night tonight, so I finally get to take them out, but I wonder if any of the bags have rats in them.
This is not pleasant. I can't be here in the office, typing like I am now, without stopping every thirty seconds to look around. Certainly, I will call the landlord tomorrow to have them take care of this problem. For now, it's creepy.
Btw, it feels very strange to write this. I've never had a diary before, not counting stupid journals that I had to keep for class. It feels odd writing about something mundane like this. I cannot make it interesting, and I do not want to try. But it is also therapeutic, which I suppose is the point. I'm writing it for me, not for you. I will have to experiment more with this.