Before I share my story, I want to thank Gina over at The Life I Live...So You Don't Have To for bestowing on me the Blog of the Year 2012. You can see it's awesomeness in my left column toward the bottom, under "My Awesomeness". I put the awards down there so I don't look braggy. It's an "award" given by bloggers to bloggers. It's not so much that I'm the best (ha!), but that Gina thought of me when considering who to give the award to (along with 10 other bloggers). For that I am thankful. Thanks Gina! And she's funny and working on a novel, so check her blog out by clicking on her link above.
On to the pest/bra story...
We just had a pest elimination guy here to take a look at our on-going mouse problem. You can read about that nonsense here.
The light outside our front door went out a few months ago. When Steve went to replace the bulbs (odd that all three burned out at the exact same time) and pulled the fixture off the wall he found two electrocuted mice behind it. So when the light in our kitchen suddenly went out last week - all four fluorescent tubes simultaneously – I figured it had to be mice. We'd been gone for 10 days to visit family and I think that was all the invitation the mice needed to come in and party like Prince as if it were 1999.
Then I woke up the next morning and found a half-eaten tomato on my counter. I know my kids didn't do this.
|The more embarrassing part is that I left this on the |
counter for three more days until I found my camera.
Having a service person come into our house is always a crap-shoot because I never know what my kids are going to do. Will they ask embarrassing or awkward questions? Will they get in the way? Will they be disrespectful? Most likely, yes.
As soon as the pest guy walked in the door, Autumn shoved the noise-making animal farts book my Aunt Kim recently sent the kids, in his face. (Thanks Aunt Kim) She hadn't looked at it in a week, but brought it out just to show our guest. How sweet. Then she said, “Yook, yook! (Look! Look!) Toot-toot!” and proceeded to push the fart buttons, which sounded something like this:
eROWRRH (elephant trumpet, followed by)...BOUM-BOUM-BOUM-pfft-BRAAAAP-BOUM! (elephant fart), then NE-E-E-E-E-E-IGH (horse neigh) and WHOOOOZZ-JOEEEEE-FFRRPTPTPTPTPT! (horse fart)
Over and over she pushed the various buttons to make the animal noise, accompanied by the animal's loud fart noise.
I managed to pull her away from the guy and send her downstairs with the book as he smiled and ducked under the sink to check the traps. He found no mice under the sink, but while I waited, and looked out the back door, I saw one of those little buggers run out of a crack in our house, across the patio and under the broken-down hot tub that hasn't worked in three years (since a month after we moved in). So now I'm more determined than ever to get that piece of crap out of my yard.
Throughout the house and garage he found a few dead mice in the traps previously set. I was disgusted, but also happy - less mice in the world. Then he asked to see our third attic that was listed on our previous inspection forms. The entrance is located in my bedroom closet. My bedroom closet. Just a little personal. As he was up on the stool trying to stick his body in the two foot by two foot entrance, I noticed three of my bras hanging on the back of my bedroom door, which he most likely didn't see when he came in, but would not miss going out.
I know a bra is no big deal, I see them in Target and Kohl's all the time. But there's something about strangers in my bedroom seeing my personal, mildly dirty underclothes, that recently touched my body that makes me a little embarrassed. In college, my friends used to purposely say the word “bra” to see my face turn red. I've come a long way since then, but not far enough. Undergarments still embarrass me.
So, as his head was in the attic hole, I snuck over to the door and grabbed the bras, bunched them in a ball, and with my back to him, walked sideways across the room to hide them under the comforter of the unmade bed - further evidence to the pest guy that I'm a complete pig. Not only do we have mice, but we don't make our beds and we leave mice-eaten tomatoes on our counter until we can find our camera. (I should say “I”. Steve is not part of my pigdom...mostly).
I shoved the bras under just as he ducked his head out to ask about the trap. I looked up as I straightened out the unmade comforter - because that corner needed straightening - and gave some answer, of which I cannot remember now, and willed myself not to turn red.
Thankfully, that was the last trap to check. At that point, he had been here for over an hour. Anytime a service person comes for a morning visit, my biggest concern is that nature will call while they're here. Well, of course as he was explaining the details of our pest report, nature called.
I looked at the report and listened, but was thinking: Whatever. I don't care. Just finish so I can go to the bathroom. Nature is NOW blaring it's horn and I need you to leave! I don't want to be stopped up into next week, so just SHUT UP and get out! I smiled and nodded and mm-hmm'd and walked toward the front door, hoping he'd follow. As soon as he walked out the door, I threw the report on the table and ran to the bathroom. I made it. Barely.
The next day the electrician came to repair the damage from the mice. And why I didn't consider that he might need to see the electrical box in our laundry room is beyond me. In order to get to it, he had to wade through our dirty laundry, push past a coffin of crap for Goodwill and s'mores the horse, step over my worm farm, and see four of my drying bras hanging on the knob of the laundry room door in all their glory.
But, at least for his visit, nature didn't call.
|What the electrician had to walk around.|