The year of freak medical maladies and parasitic insect-invasions truly reached its pinnacle this weekend, friends. The Southerner’s sister drove down from North Carolina to help us finish some last-minute wedding projects (Smore’s kits, anyone?) and visit St. Pete for the first time  (a.k.a. school us on how to party like a 21 year-old).  All of us were sitting around Sunday night watching the awesome new HBO show, The Newsroom when my future sis-in-law turned to me and said, “Umm, I don’t know how to tell you this, but I just saw a rat run through your kitchen.” “WHHHHAAAATTT? Was it big?” “I don’t know.  Maybe, about this big.”

And, then I saw it…  This huge, grey, beady-looking rat run right under my oven.   The appropriate obscenity has not yet been invented to describe how I felt about seeing that rat running under my oven. Mother-Fuckuckkakaw?

So, yeah, there’s a rat in our kitchen.  No biggie.  I mean I used to have pet rats as a teenager, right? Except, I’m not a teenager anymore and rats are gross.  Luckily (or unluckily, depending on how you view the proverbial glass), our house also has termites so the termite-guys are coming to bomb it in the next few weeks and I’m fairly certain that all that toxic gas will take care of our little rat issue.

By now, you may be starting to wonder about the cleanliness of our house. I totally get it.  You think we’re slobs. How could you not, what with all the fleas, termites, and RATS running around our house.  Except, we (and by “we”, I mean “me”) are total clean-freaks. I swear.  Yes, the Southerner does have a little problem with falling asleep with a spoonful of peanut-butter in his mouth (no joke) from time to time. But, the minute I get over the shock of thinking that he shit on his own pillow-case, those sheets get washed on heavy-duty cycle.  Which is normally just reserved for blue jeans and skid marks.  See, clean?

As far as I’m concerned, all signs point toward “time to move into another house.” Really, the signs should have been glaringly obvious after the great flea invasion of 2012. But, seriously, I draw the line at rats.