Monday, October 12, 2015

Why I should stay out of the kitchen.

I've been sick. Real sick. I had a cold and that cold morphed into some sort of chest madness that I'm pretty sure is tuberculosis mixed with Chilean lung leprosy. I've been hacking up a lung for literally 3 weeks.

I finally broke down and took some antibiotics, even though I hate antibiotics. And those antibiotics made me feel better for a day and a half, and then they made me feel queasy and itchy and hot and dizzy and generally insane. I realized too late that I'm allergic to these demon antibiotics.

And so, I did what any normal girl would do. I went to Whole Foods and bought 2 bags of Red Hot Blues potato chips because they're the only thing that sounds good. I bought chips and Breathe Easy tea and oil of oregano and planned on healing myself without the devil antibiotics. I bought some soup and tried to keep my shit together.

Which brings us to this evening.

Tonight, I peeled my queasy, coughy self off the couch and warmed up some of the soup I had procured from Whole Paycheck. I poured the soup into a pan, and then opened the silverware drawer for a spoon.

There was a fur muff inside the silverware drawer!

The fur muff was moving!

The fur muff was a fat mouse, just chilling in my silverware drawer at 7 o'clock at night!

I screamed. I screamed like a virgin in a horror movie. I screamed, and the mouse ran down the outside of the cabinet and across the kitchen floor.

Like any sane woman, I levitated across the kitchen. But the mouse followed me! The mouse followed me, ran across my foot and climbed up my bare leg.

I hoisted myself up against the counter and kicked. I kicked like my life depended on it! I kicked and that mouse hit the floor, then scampered behind the stove.

Next thing I knew, I was in the dining room, looking into the kitchen. And I was still screaming. I stopped screaming just in time to hear the stove make a weird beeping noise, probably because the mouse was hot-wiring it, like a car.

I decided to scream once more for good measure. It felt good, and right. I wondered if the neighbors could hear. I didn't care.

After I collected myself somehwhat, I texted my husband the CliffsNotes version of the saga. I also informed him that I was burning down our house. As I glanced at his rather satisfying "holy shit!" response, I realized that the dogs were both lounging near the kitchen.

Those losers had done nothing to help me in my time of need! They hadn't become alarmed in the slightest when I was being so cruelly attacked, nor did they respond when I made sounds that I'm sure have never come out of my body before. Note to self: screaming doesn't interest dachshunds or labradoodles.

Today, I have been sorely disappointed by asshole antibiotics and lazy, no-good dogs. Also, by the vermin who continue to attack my kitchen. But I do feel like a mighty warrior, a survivor. Like Cher.

8 comments:

Jenny Hart Boren said...

Aside from the fact that your house is infested with creepy crawly (aggressive!) vermin, including your silverware drawer, YOU MUST tell your doctor that you can't take that particular antibiotic and you need a different Rx. There is NO need to suffer and stay sick--millions of dollars of research has made it possible to CURE what you have. Seriously. SCIENCE! Get well. So you will have the strength to battle the mice.

cookingwithgas said...

Yes, I agree.
Then when you are well you need to do some tracking down of those mice. If there is one there are more. They love to reproduce, in fact, they do that very well.
They are crafty bastard.
And, they are not cute. Sorry Disney, I'm not a fan.

Becky said...

I have had a similar experience - not at this house, because lord knows, I would actually torch it. My dear husband knows it's all over if I see anything small and furry and as a result, he's on top of traps and making sure any holes where said rodents could come in are properly caulked and otherwise sealed.
Maybe you just need a stash of plastic wrapped spoons you keep not in a drawer?

Kari Wagner said...

I had the same exact tuberculosis.
FOR A SOLID SIX WEEKS.
I have bad news: antibiotics aren't going to get rid of it.
Advair finally kicked it, weirdly enough.

The virgin in a horror movie line made me laugh so hard, I think I just coughed up the rest of my lung cookies, so THANK YOU!

Green Girl in Wisconsin said...

HOLY CRAP. Worst day ever.
I mean, I'm dying laughing here, but totally bummed for you when I catch my breath.
I have the same kind of useless mutt living here.
Did you get tested for mono? Strep? You should.

Patti said...

Dogs are fired. I am sending cat resumes your way.

Karen (formerly kcinnova) said...

AAaaaagggghhhhhkkkkkkkkk!! That's an argh! and an Ack! done together in high pitch, because I can't do that virgin movie starlet scream.
You are seriously funny and I would laugh except I'm too busy keeping my feet off the floor and panicking about rodents. I suspect my 12yo black lab and 12yo cat (no relation) would be about as effective as your own dogs. I would have trouble ever entering the kitchen again. (I'm not joking here... mice and I do NOT get along... and rats would have me moving away.)
I think I would have washed my leg in bleach.

But now I'm worried that you haven't posted in several weeks. I'm hoping that you are busy with good things and not in ICU.

Suburban Correspondent said...

Just saw this. If a mouse had run up my leg, I would STILL be screaming.