It’s not a good day. I put the darlings to bed last night and about 15 minutes later I heard someone rustling in the kitchen. “Who’s up?” I called out. No answer. “What are you doing? Who is in the kitchen?” Still no answer. “Damnit!” I mutter as I get up and head towards the kitchen. Upon arrival there is no one there…but I still hear the rustling. It’s not coming from the kitchen. It is LOUD. It is coming from the laundry room. I nervously approach the dark laundry room. I can’t believe how loud this scratching noise is…and I nervously flick on the light and jump back. I see nothing, and the noise stops. Oh my fack. I know there is some kind of thing around here. No doubt it is furry and heinous and grotesque. Whatever it is knows I just turned the light on. I stand there for a minute. The rustling and scratching resumes. I know one thing for certain. This ain’t no damn mouse. No siree. This is a giant rat. The noise is LOUD. Please God let it be a cute baby squirrel. Or a giraffe.
My house is in semi-disaster state from the weekend. It rained yesterday and they were mostly inside. This morning I yelled at big darling on the way to school. He almost cried. I should have pulled over and hugged him. I apologized before he got out. I hate when I do that in the morning, and my punishment will be that I’ll feel horrible all day. I’ll imagine he is having a horrible day, crying when no one is looking, and feeling terrible about himself all day long. I know darned good and well he’s forgotten about everything I said, and probably hasn’t given it another thought since the first friend greeted him on the playground two seconds after dropoff. I can’t convince myself of it, though. I’ll wait for the phone to ring all day. “Hello, Mrs. Asshole, your son is crying in the office.” Because you’re an asshole. And assholes shouldn’t yell at their kids on the way to school.
On my list today is to put Halloween decorations away. In the attic. Where the baby giraffe is. The gods are snickering. I can hear them.
