fuck
Exhusband tell Roger you are sick and need to come home NOW. Come on. I know you're reading this. I love how I call you at work and you're all blase about this...but until you deal with this emergency I am not setting foot in the kitchen for more than 5 seconds to run through it. And I'll be wearing steel-toed boots. Which means our poor children will not eat or drink. No one is leaving the house this weekend (well, that would be you, actually) until you lure that motherfucker out with a tasty treat and snap it's fucking body in half.
I am cool about a lot of stuff, but I draw the line at a mouse. I wonder if our last experience with mice and traps is causing bad mouse karma?
Last time I had a mouse exhub came over late at night and rescued us from it (that was really nice of you, btw. Thanks.)...but then the next day we realized there were more mice. He set some traps and then he came over and checked them a couple times throughout the day. So then he calls me at work in tears...IN TEARS...to let me know he'd caught the mouse, but that the babies it had in my bathroom drawer were soooooo cute. Blah blah blah cute my ass. Cry at the kids' first band concert. Cry at Hallmark ads. Cry when your ex mother-in-law comes to visit. But NO getting attached to these mice. THEY ARE NOT PETS. THEY ARE THE DEVIL.
I'm leaving the house now. But I will look forward to later when you come home and we can all sit around a campfire and sing "3 Dead Mice" to the tune of "3 Blind Mice."
I am cool about a lot of stuff, but I draw the line at a mouse. I wonder if our last experience with mice and traps is causing bad mouse karma?
Last time I had a mouse exhub came over late at night and rescued us from it (that was really nice of you, btw. Thanks.)...but then the next day we realized there were more mice. He set some traps and then he came over and checked them a couple times throughout the day. So then he calls me at work in tears...IN TEARS...to let me know he'd caught the mouse, but that the babies it had in my bathroom drawer were soooooo cute. Blah blah blah cute my ass. Cry at the kids' first band concert. Cry at Hallmark ads. Cry when your ex mother-in-law comes to visit. But NO getting attached to these mice. THEY ARE NOT PETS. THEY ARE THE DEVIL.
I'm leaving the house now. But I will look forward to later when you come home and we can all sit around a campfire and sing "3 Dead Mice" to the tune of "3 Blind Mice."
posted by jill at 11:43
2 Comments:
Rescuing you from mice has become, as you well know, a theme in our relationship over the years. I will not hesitate, I will not cry, I will not fawn over baby mice...I will execute the vermin from our home. Now...take a deep breath, take Ursy to the park, have fun with the kids and let me do my thing when I get home.
enter superhero music here.
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