Just a normal day ....

You know me well enough by now that when I go quiet in my blog world, I usually have a bit on. Now there are some bloggers out there who think it's ok to suck  time out of your day by making you read fluff and inane updates on what they've been doing.  But not in my space.  Nope, if I have nothing to say then I won't.  And I  promise I won't ever update you on my weekend.  Because based on the one just been, it would be all about kids sports and cleaning and no one should be subjected to that.

So just to get the ball rolling (think a writers version of flexing or stretching), I'm going to share a little story that actually, truthfully did happen.  And even though I promised no fluff or inaneness (is that a word) only a few lines ago, be warned - this story is nothing but.

So we've had a small (ahem) rodent issue.  This has not been our finest hour, but I'm sure a therapist would tell me it helps to work through this trauma by sharing.  We have not been sitting there waiting for them it to die of old age.  the family have all been very proactive in spotting evidence (some with a little too much excitement - thinking of Young David Attenborough - but even he was tiring)  I think there is enough rat poison under my dishwasher to take a large family down.  And sure enough as promised on the packaging, it started to have effect.  Sidebar; walking through Bunnings with a rat trap and a bumper tub of rat poison in your basket is the equivalent of walking through the supermarket with a 2 litre bottle of nit shampoo - just saying.

So feeling we were "winning the battle" (actual words from the husband - who was overseas for 10 days of The Battle), we started to walk into rooms with confidence that we wouldn't see "evidence" or worse of our visitors.  So one sunny afternoon, I settled myself in for an important phone interview with a corporate client I write for.

You know where this is going don't you.

So I'm sitting at my dining table, when who should appear but a groggy, and clearly unwell RAT. wandering across the kitchen floor (having used his remaining strength to push his way past all the poison blocks under my dishwasher).  It then pauses metres away from me.  I scream and swear lots and ask my client what should I do?

PUT DOWN THE PHONE WOULD HAVE BEEN A GOOD START.

But no, I kept him hanging in awkward silence at the other end, while I talked him through what I was doing.  i.e.
"I'm going to open the sliding door" (squeal)
"Now I'm going to bat it out with this cricket bat" (squealing, swearing OMG's)
"Oh no he's not budging, what do I do now? "(silence)
"Ok I'll try again" (hitting floor loudly with cricket bat)
"Got him, he's gone outside, but he's just sitting there, oh jesus, GROSS" (door slams, silence on the phone),
"Right so lets talk about compliance for the business this month...."

I did manage to get my shiz together to take a photo.  After I'd rung my sister, and the Husband - who unhelpfully wouldn't come back from a work trip to sort it for me.

Ok, that felt good to get that out.  I'm back!

Postscript:  To all my "friends" who commented on this photo on Instagram when I was still clearly traumatised, yes it is "huge" isn't it, and no it's not a possum, and yes it does look like it wants back in.  Thank you