My nights and days get all screwed up after I have worked a few nights in a row. I try to stay awake when I get home in the morning and just take a nap in the afternoon. Then when Mr. Misha gets home from work, we can have dinner and spend the evening together before hitting the hay, thus...turning my internal clock back to "dayshift"
Sometimes, it doesn't work. I will go to bed with Mr. Misha and wake up at 3 or 4 am, WIDE AWAKE. I try and quietly do things in the front of the house to allow him to get some sleep. On one particular morning, I decided to cook. I had purchased a bunch of ground beef. I was going to brown it all, separate it into 1lb increments and put it in the freezer. When I needed it, for tacos (my husband likes tacos), or some other ground beef meal, I could just pull it out of the freezer and "Viola!"
So, I am in the kitchen, browning the meat. Our cocker spaniel, Mimi, is sitting at my feet praying to her little dog deity that I will drop all 10 lbs on the floor. While standing at the stove, I hear the doggie door open. I can't believe that Mimi has left her post! I look down, she hasn't! I walk towards the dining room and there I see it! It is a FUCKING RAT! A FUCKING RAT has come in Mimi's doggie door!
I must digress a bit.
I pride myself on being a cool chick. I can usually do most things myself.
I know how to: change my oil, find a stud in a wall to hang a heavy mirror, pitch a tent, drive a 4WD, change a tire, shoot a gun and Bar B Que a nice steak.
Things I want help with: reaching things on the top shelf, killing spiders bigger than a nickel (the squish grosses me out), opening jars, lifting the couch so I can vacuum under it.
The ONE thing I WILL NOT DO.........deal with fucking rodents!
So here it is, 4:30 on a Sunday morning and a FUCKING RAT is in my dining room. What do I do? I run screaming into the bedroom. I am running around the room like a fart in a windstorm screaming "THERE IS A RAT IN THE DINING ROOM. GET IT! GET IT!" I keep yelling this until he wakes up (if you know my husband, you know this takes a long time). He wakes up and sits straight up in bed and says, "What?" I repeat "THERE IS A RAT IN THE DINING ROOM. GET IT! GET IT!" He says, "Huh?" Again, I scream "THERE IS A FUCKING RAT IN THE DINING ROOM. GET IT! GET IT!"
He jumps up, puts on his boots and coat, and grabs his car keys and LEAVES THE HOUSE!
I barricade myself and the dog in the bedroom. I am wondering where my husband went and trying to figure out how to sterilize the entire house. I am sure that the whole house is now infested with the Hanta virus. Just then, the phone rings, it is Mr. Misha. I answer it and he says, "What am I doing?" I repeat, but this time I don't yell "There is a rat in the dining room, you have to get it. Go to the store and get something to get the FUCKING RAT out of the living room." He says "OK'" (Mr. Misha is not a big talker when he first wakes up).
For what seems like an eternity, Mimi and I stay huddled on the bed. I am imagining that my entire kitchen, dining room and living room are being over run by Ben, Wilbur, Templeton and any other celebrity rat I can think of. I am looking through my public health nurse textbook to see what diseases I am going to contract from this FUCKING RAT.
He finally returns. His shirt is buttoned wrong, his shoes are untied, and the hair on his head is sticking out and up, Bozo the Clown style. In his arms are three bags of various contraptions to catch a rat. He spent about $60.00 in Long's. He starts pulling out extension cords and hooking up all these ultra sonic rodent repellents. I am skeptical. I am not satisfied. I ask him to lift all of the furniture up and make sure that the rat has left. Of course, I am scared that the rat will come after me when he lifts the furniture up..............so, back to the bedroom for Mimi and me.
Finally, Mr. Misha gives me the "All Clear". I finish browning my meat; I put in the individual bags, place them in the freezer.............and start to sterilize the house.