Here at the New Pad, we enjoy city living. Yes, our home is in a neighborhood, but we can walk to a few things and we enjoy being close to other stuff that requires only short drives. It’s good, you know?
But nature still abounds. We regularly deal with city vermin, like opinionated squirrels. We also deal with opossums, raccoons and rats. Hell – we’ve had coyotes walking in the middle of our urban street. The closest we come to most critters is 15 to 20 feet. And that’s close enough, as I’m not looking to go all Grey Gardens and start feeding the vermin inside the house. (Besides, Mister and I would probably fight over who gets to be “Big Edie” and “Little Edie.”) But I digress…
After months of listening to something scurrying around in the attic space, I reached my limit and had someone set some traps and seal off all the entry points, both above and below. That was a good move and I consider it money well-spent. But those pesky rats (and yes – they are rats) are determined. So once in a while, a critter makes it back into the space. No problem. The traps are maintained and if I need the pest-control company to come out and check things, they do. Thank goodness. As that’s precisely what I needed the other day, when I detected an odor of death from beneath the house. A rep from the company arrived, found a dead rat, and removed the offensive carcass.
Just before he left, I had a brief conversation with him and he could not have been a nicer guy. Really. But he did seem a little tweaked. And I’m guessing that may be an occupational hazard for those company guys. On a day-to-day basis, they deal with some freakin’ ugly fumes. Long-term exposure to that stuff can’t be good.
Still, that dude got rid of a dead rat and he was funny, to boot. Kind of made my morning. I’m thinking my southern upbringing is responsible for my appreciation for the tweaked, as I was not only exposed to such individuals, but related to more than my fair share as well. Thank goodness for that, too. Because I do love a funny tweaker.