our new roomie

this week we had an unexpected visitor grace us--or should i say our food cupboard--with his presence. here is the story written by kristin, copied and pasted by me into this blog:

So Grant and Carolyn and I have know for a few days now that we have amouse. Or something. The bite marks in the cheese-filled pasta bag werethe first clue. Then we remembered the disappearing ramen last week, andthe cracker crumbs all over the cookbook drawer a few months ago.So, reluctantly, we mobilized our forces. We bought two types ofmousetraps, filled them with peanut butter, and waited. Grant woke up at2:30 am that first night, shook me and said: "I think I heard themousetrap!" The next morning, we found the traps - snapped shut, butmouseless.This was our first clue that our enemy was greater than we had anticipated.We bought a third type of mousetrap - the all-powerful glue trap. Grantarranged our food cupboard so that the mouse (or something) would have tomaneuver around five traps in order to get in. (It's a low cupboard, and hasapparently been an easy source of sustenance for our little friend.) Thenext morning, most of the traps had been moved, and none contained a mouse.Our fear grew.The next night, Grant couldn't sleep. He was sitting on the couch at 4:30am, when he heard it. *rustle, rustle.* He moved slowly toward thecupboard. *scratch, scratch*. He leaned over the counter, trying to get abetter look. A little nose poked out of the cupboard. Grant jumped back inalarm. Startled, the rodent jumped to the floor and scurried into thekitchen, where it disappeared under the fridge.It was confirmed. We had a rat.
The next day, we could hardly bear to be in the apartment. Somewhere, in the darkest recesses of 4858 N Hermitage, Apt GDN A, a rat hid: watching our every move, waiting for the cover of dark to resume his reign of terror. We brought out the big guns: yet another type of glue trap, but bigger, meant for rats. Once again, night fell. This morning, an insistent knock at our bedroom door revealed Carolyn's pale face, shaking voice, and tear-filled eyes. "The rat..." she whispered. "It's...moving! I...can't..." We jumped out of bed, took one look at the writhing brown body, and ran to the other corner of the house. What now? The rat was still alive and, by the looks of him, quite capable of writhing all the way off the glue trap if we weren't careful. Grant ran to the carto get the shovel. I called my dad for a pep talk: "You've got to kill him!" he said. "You can't be tentative about it - whack him HARD, but remember, there will be blood. Do you have a crowbar?" When Grant returned with the shovel, it seemed too flimsy, and we couldn't get a good angle. Whenever we got near it, it started squirming desperately, trying to pull the trap closer to its hiding place. By closing her eyes, Carolyn mustered up the courage to grab her lunch from the fridge and left for work, still pale, still shaken. Now it was just me and Grant. We scoured the house for anything that might work; there was nothing. Finally Grant went outside and found a brick. He stepped slowly closer, closer, until he was only a few feet away. With a sick look on his face, he closed his eyes and hurled the brick at the rat. There was a huge thud, followed by "SHRIEK, SHRIEK, SHRIEK, SHRIEK!!!""Kill it!" I yelled, burying my face in a pillow! "DO IT NOW!!!" Grant raised the shovel over his head, gritted his teeth..."SHRIEK, SHRIEK, SHRI...WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!" Silence. Grant scooped up the remains. I scrubbed the floor. We began cleaning outthe cupboard. And we desperately hope that there are no more rats where this one came from.

That's the story. I will spare you the horror of pictures. If only I could place a big fat "THE END" now. But unfortunately, the sauga continues. Tuesday night, I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't live in our apartment knowing that at one point, we weren't alone. I spent nearly 2 hours bleaching, scrubbing, bleaching again, scrubbing again, taking everything out, scrubbing every container of juice, every cook book, every one of grant's bazillion vitamin bottles, and anything else that may have even come close to our little friend. The kitchen was spotless. Disinfected. Bacterialess. And most important, ratless. Finally, at midnight, I proclaimed with triumph: "THERE! Now we can forget about the rat forever and move on." So I thought. Today I got a text from Kristin that said only this: "bad new. more rats." I called within seconds. "What do you mean???" I said with trembling anger and fear behind my voice. Apparently, as Grant went for his vitamins this morning, he found a mass of chips--broken, crumbled, half eaten--decorating the vitamin drawer. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!! There are more!!! Seriously, I cannot explain in words the anxiety, disgust, and franticness this causes me. I can't go on until I know they are gone forever. I can't live in that place. Last night i was nearly asleep when suddenly, I jumped up and threw a towel at the bottom of my bed. I thought I had felt something moving. And that was before I even knew our visitors weren't gone. And to think that I thought the movie Ratatouille was cute. The thought of my ignorance makes me want to vomit.