Wait, wait . . . that wasn't what I meant at all!

Yeah, so I came home from a fun-filled afternoon involving flunking a kid out of my class in the third week of school, an unexpected bill for my car, and the gynecologist. I was not in a great place. I've been in worse, but not great.

I returned to find that the rental dudes were back. I said, "hey" as I wondered idly what they did in my apartment all the time when I was away, and they said, "guess what?" And I said, with a soul killing flatness, "what. what did you do."

"We found that rat!"

You mean the rat that didn't exist? That was "standing water"? The smell? THAT smell?

Yes! The boys were very very pleased with themselves, and I was whooping and high fiving them and dancing as happily as a woman can while carrying a complete Shakespeare and a set of papers.

Then I messed up. I said, "Is it still here? Can I see it?"

Horror.

Looks of complete disgust.

Shakings of heads.

I grossed out the dudes who get rid of dead rats for a living. Sigh. I sort of backpedaled, said, "you guys are my heroes!" then ran into my house and slammed the door.