Last night I wrapped presents over at Tim’s place until the wee hours of the morning (on the only day of the year that he was exhausted enough to attempt sleep before midnight, but he said he couldn’t hear me, since he was upstairs and I was down). So I wasn’t inside my house enough to hear if there was a repeat performance from Michael Ratley and his Irish Dancing Rats.
However, as I went in and out of the garage seeking shipping boxes, I did see a rat run inside my attic through the hole around an air conditioning pipe. Enjoy your freedom now, Fievel, it all gets plugged up tomorrow.
After getting everything wrapped, I brought the boxes back into the Big House (which has less square footage than Tim’s place, but whatever) to address and seal them. And that is when last night’s adventure happened. I heard a noise so loud that I called out to Tom (a very sound sleeper), “Did you hear that? Was that gunfire?”
“Only if someone has a machine gun,” he hollered back. “And I’m not sticking my head out the door to see what it was.”
(He has a psychic ability to know what my next request will be.)
I waited for sirens and blue flashing lights, but nothing happened. I kept thinking I heard people’s voices, but when I finally ventured outside with the dogs, I couldn’t detect anything amiss.
Beats me. Maybe some of my neighbors took an AK-47 approach to their rat problem.
fievel’s american tail is meeting it’s maker
with tim & tom around you oughta be hosting some sort of psychic show.
do you like wrapping presents? i was doing so last night as well cuz jen hates wrapping stuff, but i kinda like doing it.
Re: fievel’s american tail is meeting it’s maker
I am a lousy wrapper. However, IF I have everything I need at hand–paper, tape, tags, bows or ribbon–then I can do it in marathon bouts without too much bitching. Then again, if no one is there to hear the bitching, do I really make a sound?
Re: fievel’s american tail is meeting it’s maker
“Then again, if no one is there to hear the bitching, do I really make a sound?”
Isn’t that what LJ is for?
Re: fievel’s american tail is meeting it’s maker
Good point!
that ablity is from being a husband – they have much less of it than wives, however.
I think it was the RAT PATROL armed an declaring warfare on the humans
Lynne
Beckster, I feel it neccessary to point out that Fievel was a MOUSE.. I am now wondering how big these rodents are, and really are they sweet little mouses? Or horrible Rats … I have a song for you …
JINGLES THE CHRISTMAS MOUSE
LIVES IN THE WALL AT SANTAS HOUSE
AND THOUGH THEY KNOW HE’S THERE
NOBODY SEEMS TO CARE
Why do you want to hurt Jingles?
I have heard that mice don’t live where there are rats, so I’m assuming I’m not REALLY harming Jingles or any of his little friends. Because what I’ve got? Roof rats, they are called. And while I wish they didn’t have to die, I can’t have them chewing up my wiring (perhaps catching my house on fire) and my wood and everything I’ve got stored in the attic (my Barbies! But they are in sealed plastic bins, so I’m hoping they are okay) or leaving their nasty little toxic droppings and just generally CREEPING me out and keeping me from being able to write late at night. Here’s a roof rat.
However, just FYI? If Jingles and Fievel move in, they’re “going to a better place,” too.
Good heavens be careful! That sounds scary as heck, but then I am a naive little country boy not used to such ruckus at night. I wonder what it could have been?
I feel your pain with the Mr. Jingles/Fievel issue. Last night, Bob went out to put traps in the garage. Now, me being me, I won’t be able to get into my car because I don’t want to see what might be in them! He says he will take care of it in the morning but still. EW. I certainly hate to think of my garage of death for the mice of Lebanon, but it is fastly becoming one. We are at war. Bob explained to me that we have to win this war because otherwise there will be those “nasty little toxic droppings” everywhere again. I get so grossed out by that too. SO much in fact, that I washed every dish I own and the pots and pans under the sink!
With the story of Mr. Jingles, I have to believe that the Carnival in Florida will be where he ends up. Just like the book says! Better there than here. I mean, they must be starving to come into the Garage of Death. This is way better than starving I am sure. (I hope)
*Whenever I wake Bob up to some noise I heard, he makes ME get up to see what it is. How’s that for a good husband??? He says, “Go see then, if it bothers you.” Sheesh. I could get killed by someone, but he sleeps away, like a baby. A baby! I wish I could sleep like that. Hum. Maybe I will go in the bedroom and scream really loud to see what happens…stay tuned.
OK, never mind. I don’t want to do an LJ gettogether in Houston in Feb.–unless the rats are gone by then. =)