I’ve got rats in my vents and they won’t go,
I’ve got rodents in my vents and they won’t go…..
I haven’t slept in 4 days because the rats are back. I live in a small to mid-sized city in the interior or BC, Canada, and this year our town has an infestation of pack rats. They are everywhere, but worst of all, they are in my vents. My city is basically a valley that is surrounded by desert dry mountains, with a fast moving river running through it. Mice have always been an issue, but they are pretty easy to deal with. RATS, however, are a whole nother story. (URBAN SPEAK)
I’ve never had rats at my place before, so this is new to me. The first indication of the pesty problem was the sound coming up through my vents. I own a modular home which is situated up on the mountain. My duct system runs under the trailer, so somehow these little bastards have found a way in and they are destroying my life. So far I have caught 8 rats, and I thought I was done with them over a month ago. The rats were dead, and the house was peaceful. It was a long weekend Monday, and I was curled up with a good book on my couch. My foot was wet from my dogs little sleeping licks. (she licks my feet when she sleeps — don’t judge her, she’s sensitive.) The setting was perfect for a chilly pre-mature fall evening. At first, I thought it was maybe starting to rain outside. I sat up and listened hard — opposed to listening soft. Tick tick tick tick, bang bang, thug…. repeat over and over and over —— F*CK Me. RATS.
I had called my step-daddy and asked him to stop by and reset the traps. The three large rat traps tethered to a block under my trailer had been working like a charm, so I was confident this one would be dead in no time. It’s not. This one is smart, and it’s determined to drive me completely mad by way of extreme insomnia. The rat-bastard runs around all night long; he taunts me. I think his plan is to force me out, so he can take over the whole house. He hasn’t tempted to enter the house; likely due to my 11lb guard dog. Although, Olivia (my dog), seems a bit frightened by the noise the rats make. We heard it behind the wall where the water heater is, and she was outta there… I found her hiding under the couch, shivering like a bitch in heat (dog pun).
I called a pest control company, but all they do is set up traps under the trailer (which I have done), and then send me a bill for $200.00. I’m not confident this will solve the issue. What I needed is someone willing to crawl under the trailer to find the duct with a hole in it. I don’t want this person to be me; mainly because there are frigg’n rats under there, and I have and anxiety disorder. Small crawl spaces are not the friend of mentally disordered people like me.
Long story short; I’m f*cking tired, and yes when I’m tired, I swear a lot. Let’s be honest; I swear a lot all the time. Bad habit I know, but there’s a lot of shit going on in my head, and swearing helps release it. At least that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it. I had a few freak outs getting ready for work today, so I popped an Ativan. It seems to have calmed me, but I’m even more tired than before. This is gonna be one long painful work day. A co-worker just walked past my office and said, “You look dispondent.” Thank you D-to-the-O, this post needed a title.
On a hippy happy note, it’s Friday — heck ya, it’s Friday. Look at me, I didn’t even swear just then: pounds all around!!!
Here’s to the F*cking weekend bitches.