There are two personalities out there the Just Do It crew and the Let Me Think About It crowd. I fall into the first group, however the husband does not. His style is to spend months researching every angle of every piece of information ever printed on a product before the final decision is made. My style is more of a see it, like it, buy it approach.

Now, these characteristics can compliment each other or drive one of the parties crazy, it really depends on the situation. Yesterday I was thinking about one of the “extreme” situations that went down in this house. The demise of the rodent. My plan was simple “get rid of it” the other plan was equivalent to something you might see in a Pentagon war room.

NOTE: THIS IS THE PG-13 RATED VERSION. THE REAL VERSION RESEMBLES THE SCRIPT TO SCARFACE OR CASINIO. 

Somehow this thing entered our home, we didn’t know what it was, but I wanted it to be gone. The hubby needs to know what it is, how it entered, what it’s been doing, how he will get rid of it and the assurance that “it” or nothing else will ever enter our home again, without an invitation.  Let the hunt begin!

He starts tearing everything apart looking for droppings, which he then took to a shitologist somewhere to be analyzed to determine what sort of creature he is hunting. The very bad news was we were dealing with a “R”. No, not a raccoon. I refuse to say it!  You’ll have to use your imagination. HINT: It rhymes with bat. Ugh..the thought freaks me out so you can magnify my feeling by 100 and that is how much it freaked out the husband.

We couldn’t understand why our Beagle Chester wasn’t going crazy for a scent. He should have been sniffing this thing out.  I came to the conclusion that while we were at work, he was most likely tied to a chair and told to keep his f”n mouth closed. That’s how “R’s” roll. Poor thing was probably scared to death. To this day I swear I saw remnants of duct tape on his paws.

My solution was poison. Don’t the words “R” and Poison go together like Peanut-butter and Jelly? His solution started with taking up the entire kitchen floor! I’ll leave out the part, or maybe not, where he slipped on a beam and crushed his man globes…that really didn’t help matters.

Next came inserting smoke bombs into the ceiling, in hopes this thing would come crawling out gasping for air…NOT. My joke about it having a gas mask wasn’t received very well…except by me. I was entertained for hours. At this point I came up with a plan “B” , which was another simple answer …”let’s move.” It would have been so much easier than dismantling the ceiling downstairs to set traps.

This is where things took a turn right into Crazy Town. It was driving the hubby insane!  Our house was dismantled and this creature was clearly laughing his furry ass off the whole time.

Next came the internet research on the characteristics of this creature, trying to figure out how the brain of a “R” operates. He was going to get inside its head. Seriously, I had looney tune town on speed dial at this point.  Brace yourself for what happened next…

I woke up in the middle of the night and the hubby is not in bed.  My first thought was…”Oh no!” I went downstairs and was not prepared for what I saw…My “husband” was sitting on the kitchen table, in the dark, in his underwear, with a gun (pellet gun borrowed from our neighbor) waiting. Ok, now do you understand the level of insanity?  He was one rocking motion away from being committed, by me. This mission failed…you really don’t want the details.

FINALLY, my plan was considered and the poison was purchased. He placed it in 5 places and documented the locations of the poison. I would never have thought to do that!  He was home from work that day, I on the other hand made a mad dash out of Crazy Town and happily went to my job.  Next thing you know I received a phone call that went like this:

Hubby:  “I think it ate the poison”

Me:   “How do you know?”

Hubby:  “I think I hear it coughing, I feel so bad”

Me:  “Can you hold a second?” “Coughing I hope the f”n thing chokes! Bad? Yea, I feel real f ‘n bad that I’m not home stomping the f’n fur ball to death myself! “ “Hey, thanks for holding, sorry about that. I can’t believe you feel bad, 2 nights ago you were sitting on the kitchen table, in the dark, with a gun in your hand.”

Hubby:  “I know but it sounds like it’s suffering”

Me:   “I’ve been suffering since this f”n fur bag entered our house!”

Hubby:   “Shhh, I think the coughing is slowing down”

Me:   “Just get a pillow and finish the job!”  I’ve been pushed to a Robert DeNiro level!

Hubby:  “I think it’s dead..ugh I feel so bad now”

Me:  “I want to see the body when I get home, I need to know it’s dead”

Hubby:  “Don’t you feel bad?”   Me:   “NO!”

This is the sort of shit challenge that could make of break a marriage, honest to God! To this day he feels bad, meanwhile I’m always scouting out good places to dump the body…just in case the need should arise.

Yes, the kitchen floor was remodeled, the phone wires were replaced, the dishwasher was re-wired, the basement ceiling was fixed and my home was clean from top to bottom….literally. (Hubby can fix/remodel/design anything)

In the end we both got a better understanding of what makes us tick. I’ve learned to ponder on things a little more, while the husband was told to realized he needs to stop making things so complicated. Chillax and Enjoy the Ride!