Thursday, August 16, 2018

Old House Problems & My Husband, The Liar

Our new house is actually not anywhere near new; it's about 80 years old.

It sat empty for the better part of a year before we bought and moved into it two months ago.

Empty old houses draw creepy things and I don't mean the shady characters who want to steal the copper pipes and appliances.

I know we had a creepy thing because of my dog Luna.
Luna eats premium dog food that comes from the refrigerated case in stores that are not at all convenient to get to and require a special road trip.
This gets old.

So I bought some not-so-premium-but-not-cheap-either dry dog food when I was at WalMart.

We put some in a bowl and she surprisingly really liked it.

The next morning we were in the kitchen when I noticed that the bowl that contained the dry food was empty.

"Why is that bowl empty?" I asked JP.

He answered that Luna must have really liked the food and ate it all.

"Impossible," I said, "Luna was upstairs with us all night."

We both looked at each other for a long OMG moment and then JP noticed that what was left in the bottom of the bowl was not crumbs but - wait for it - mouse poop.

Mouse Poop.

When I calmed down and stopped hyperventilating, I reasoned that it is an old house, it did sit empty for awhile, and that these things can't be helped.

And then I immediately drove to Home Depot and bought 10 mouse traps and two large packages of some kind of little boxes filled with mouse poison disguised to look like tempting food.

JP was then instructed to "put these things &#*$& everywhere!!!!" place the traps strategically where he thought the mouse (singular, not plural) might be coming and going.

Because, of course, there was just one mouse who periodically scooted inside to see if there was anything good to eat and then went back outside once his/her food expedition was complete.

Within a day or two, we caught the culprit out in the garage, where we surmised he/she squeezed under the door the leads from the garage into the butler pantry, which is next to the kitchen where the dog food was.

JP, who tends to overshare, let me know unnecessarily that "man, that was a big one!"

Yes, because it recently ate a whole lot of dry dog food.

We kept the traps baited just in case.  Weeks passed with no action and no signs whatsoever that we had more visitors so we were/are happy that, because there is a God, we didn't have a big problem.

Life was good.

And then the other day while working upstairs in my office, Luna and I heard a loud "SNAP!" downstairs.

Of course, JP was at work which meant that I had to do the investigating and so Luna and I tiptoed down the stairs (yes, dogs can tiptoe) which is when I contemplated checking the traps and then contemplated not checking the traps and decided on the latter.

Then Luna and I drove to DQ for the 5 Buck Lunch Special because whenever I get stressy I get hungry but was too skeeved to stay home...and did you really think I was going to make lunch in a kitchen that may or may not contain a mouse corpse?!

Anyway, did you know DQ has the best chicken fingers ever?  They do.  Plus they give your dog a Pup Cup for free which is a little cup of vanilla ice cream with a dog bone treat in it.  Yay, DQ!

Alas, after hiding out at DQ for awhile, we had to return home and wait out the afternoon for JP to come home and check the traps.

Unfortunately he confirmed that, yes,  the snap! we heard was in fact the sound of the death blow to another mouse.

Immediately I wanted to run out and buy a few cats but then I remembered that I am allergic to them so I scrapped that plan even though I did briefly consider buying them anyway along with a lifetime (their lifetime) supply of Claritin or Benadryl.
But then I remembered how much I hated dealing with the litter box from Mystic, the cat I had for twenty years, back when I wasn't allergic to cats¹.

Still, I was less panicked than I thought I would be, recognizing again that these are just old house kinks that need to be managed.

It's not like we have mice running all over the place, y'all.  God, what do you think we are, heathens?
I have a butler pantry with all kinds of foodstuffs on the shelves and none of it has been touched.  We just have occasional mice visitors, that's all.

Still, I became afraid of the basement even though Mouse #1 was in the garage.  Basements just seem like a place a mouse would like to hang out.

Actually, I've been afraid of the basement since we moved in because it has this really treacherous staircase.  Like, when you open the door to the basement you are immediately in danger of falling into the basement because of the treacherous design of the stairs.  I can't describe it very well and I am not going down there to take a picture because I don't really even open the door at this point.

And guess what?

Our laundry machines are in the basement.  Which means, of course, that JP has to do the laundry because I'm not going down there anytime soon even though it's not even a creepy basement and is actually a pretty nice basement as far as basements go.

But he's okay with being the laundry-doer.  In fact, he said and I quote, "don't you worry about the laundry, I will take care of it. I don't want you going down and getting scared or falling down the stairs.  You mean too much to me and I love you more than life itself and I will do your laundry forever."  Or he said something similar to that.

So last night I asked him to throw a small load in for me.
I had to ask him twice because the TV was on and men don't hear their wives very well when the television is on, but he did eventually put the load in for me and then a little while later I had to remind him that it was probably done and if he could put it in the dryer, which he did, during a commercial.

Which brings us to today.

Normal morning, kiss kiss and he's off to work.

And then I realized what he didn't do.

That's right.  He did not take my clothes out of the dryer.

They are down there right now and I am writing this to you in my nightgown and it is 10:00 am.

Here is the text I sent him this morning when I realized what he had done.  Or had not done.

Do you know where my good bra is?
The one that holds my boobs in place pretty good 
so they don't bounce around and make me and those
around me uncomfortable?
I will tell you where that bra is.

It is in the basement in the dryer.
Which means I have to descend the
Staircase Of Terror into 
The Abyss Of Rodents to retrieve it.
You said you would do my laundry.
You lied.

He responded:  LOL - already starting.

LOL?  I fail to see the humor in this.

Later, when he's home from work and looking for me and for dinner, I will send him a text from the parking lot of DQ that says, simply, LOL.

Just kidding, I won't do that.
Because I'll still be in nightgown and I can't drive to DQ in my nightgown because I might be low but I'm not that low + my car is now illegal to drive (see previous post).

But you know what he did do last night instead of remembering to bring up my laundry?

He went out late at night to get my fix for me.

Fix = Skinny Pop popcorn because I cannot survive without it and I realized very late that I had none left.

He really is such a good man. 

I'll let him slide on the laundry thing this time.

¹ Did you know that menopausal women sometimes develop weird allergies that they never had ever in their whole lives prior to advent of their hormones dying off?  It's true, look it up.
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