A light dusting of ash-like material fell from the microwave’s inside when opening its door. Like dust puffs during aftershocks of an earthquake, the spew from the top vent, and the flecks of seed casings only meant one thing: a mouse. Further evidence in the sink, at the counter’s corner, showed tiny dried poops, likely deposits after the furry son of a gun did a clean-up mission after our last stay.
I’ve got poison nuggets, these green cubes that worked in the past, and however much rodents are usually a non-issue at our cabin, that he’s screwing with appliances again (remember this past summer’s rat nest in the oven debacle?), with selling on the horizon all fuzzy freeloaders have got to go.
I’m in need of a master plan. The bandwidth for meeting my client’s needs on a daily basis, coupled with juggling repairs and updates to our house and the cabin, as well as the unknowns of where we’ll live once we sell, ping around my mind like a game of Pong. Only the more the ball bounces off the wall, the quicker it goes and then more balls get added making it go quicker.
Hence, a master plan.
By the way, three decades ago a teacher rewarded my third-grade class with Noah arc-like two-by-two trips to the back of the classroom, to be seated on counter height chairs in front of an extra thick computer box with controllers to send a tiny circle from a simplistic line to a simplistic paddle line in an actual game of Pong. I digress.
Earlier while playing with a kid’s rainbow-writing stencil pad, I comedically thought to use it as a note-taking device for counseling sessions. Instead of the usual clinical jargon, I’d write something like this as a cherry on top for ending in-person sessions and present it at the session’s end.
Back to my master plan: I did it. I worked backward from July since it’s our target move to Georgia date. I then called my friend who will list our house on June 5th so then I notified the stager that we’ll need her by June 1st so photos can be taken June 2nd. I’m excited! Part of a good plan is planning it.
We’re also planning fun things, like taking the Gondola at Crystal Mountain for breathtaking views of Mount Rainier and going to a Kraken hockey game. All the things once we leave the ol’ Evergreen State we’ll miss.
Lastly, I’m becoming well-read on snakes in Georgia, as I keep being told to be careful. Funny, because I’ve never seen one there.
Anyway, my research shows there are six poisonous species out of 42. But you have less of a chance of dying from a snake bite than from lightning. So I’m no longer worried.
What I am worried about are the little persistent gnat guys. Like an unwanted religious person knocking at the door. But hiding behind a couch does nothing for you because they’ll find a cracked window, throw their book through it and talk from there. Let’s just say they were persistent and bold, and I wasn’t prepared.
I imagine I’ll need a mini spray bottle and carry it locked and loaded on a belt buckle loop. Then I can spritz and go. Or do I wear a beekeeper’s mask? Ooh, the good bug protection ideas are flowing!
Alright, now the time everyone’s been waiting for, the Dad joke that works on this day and this day alone. Here goes: When my Dad asked me what day it was, I told him March 1st. But then he just stomped around the room and asked again.
TaDa!
Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 