Yes, the famed Capt Aubrey would give me rum today, no stealing from the hand of glory! Not to say that I have been pressed into service, but I have been working like a ship hand today.
Both the Ogre and I were swabbing decks. His deck was that of the famed giant, zombie mouse (shed) mine was the "who the hell built such a small garage on a three bedroom house, and when can we trade in the Durango for a Toyota." If you missed that, I was in the garage.
I felt extreme happiness when setting my mouse traps. The ones that I knew how to set without losing a finger to. I then asked the Ogre how the traps he was setting worked.
While holding the trap over my head he said "see the mouse goes in, it's weight pushes this down, and then when he's in he's trappped."
When I finally saw the interior of the trap, I said "Where's the whirling blade of death? I want encased carnage! Why are there airholes? I want them to DIE! You might as well keep them and feed them with that thing."
After the mice as pets incident, I am a little less casual about the whole rodent in/near/around my home. Those little buggers are smelly, and nasty, and, and must die.
The garage, or winter vacation home for virus ridden rodents was completely swept out and reorganized. If you can imagine a 2 car (2 car, not car and stupid gas wasting, hard to back out, horrible to park, oh, also recalled because the dash could catch on fire Durango) garage with 3 kids worth of bikes, you are imagining a complete pit of doom. It's now a tidy pit of doom.
I am sooooo getting grog. It would be so dreamy if I could hallucinate Capt Aubrey making it for me. But that would require a ship, and the sea, and I would barf, and it would be way less sexy.
Did I mention knitting?
I am going to drink grog and knit. I will be nestled in the loving arms of my reclining chair with a rum drink by my side. No wonder my knitting never turns out!