Micepoclypes

Last night, tired and worried about my potential job switch (Dear God, PLEASE PLEASE I WANT THIS JOB I will totally give you everything I have in my Change Pot PLEASEY MCPLEASEY PIES) and in all together distracted state of mind.

Mom had asked me to make dinner, specifically to grill her some ding dong chicken ten minutes on one side, ten on the other, last five minutes with bbq sauce exactlty. Fine. Whatever.

We have a gas grill which is mostly awesome. Crank on the gas stick the lighter into the whole, it makes a FOOOOOOM! noise and you got flesh charring fire. So I take the ligheter, turn it on, foom and what not. The dogs are running off into the yard, I watch them for a second, then glance back down.

To my credit, there was no screams. I am not a screamer by nature (just ask Nox ::waves :: Hi honey, totally not sharing about our sex lives, no worries, I would never ever. Nopers) I am a bug squisher and I was the proud pet owner of a rat in college. Not a screamer.

But I did stand in open jawed hire as mice crawled across the coals. I was so shocked that I didn't turn the grill off at first. They were silent, they were grey and guys? for a minute I thought I was hallucinating.

Then reality hit me with a mallet, I shut the gas off, herded the dogs inside and called my dad. I noticed that the grill was still letting off a few whiffs of smoke. Later, my dad uncovered an entire abandoned nest. He didn't say so, but I know he found a corpse or two because I could hear them getting sucked into the shop vac.

Poor mice.

Also? A deer ran into my dad's car last week causing a pretty close call with serious injury and there is a cricket in our living room whom we cannot locate, but is driving my dogs to insanity.

The animal world is out to get my family.

Catch you on the flipside,
CGL