What the Whuuuut?

Oh hey! It's me! Remember me? The girl who thinks she's flirting with the cute guy in line at the LCBO only to discover that he is pointing at the tampon I dropped on the floor?

Did you know I found out that single men only change their sheets once every four months? No wonder I don't date.

My sister and peskiest brother-in-law came to visit me recently. Remember them? Every time they come there is some Extreme Home Makeover that happens. So when they said they were coming I was like YAY! I'll put together a list! And my sister was like, uhm, not this time. We're gonna come and do nothing. And that was ok with me, because when these two start doing sh*t, it is ALL HANDS ON DECK.

Except their idea of doing nothing meant:

• Changing the kitchen light
• Changing the light above my sink
• Installing a new fan
• Fixing my toilet seat
• Re-arranging everything in my fridge
• Cleaning out my fridge, and
• Moving my fridge out to clean behind it.

The last bit - taking the fridge out - was because just before they got there I found evidence of another mouse. The last time I had a mouse, my other sister and pesky brother-in-law were here. It was just after my surgery, and I asked my pesky brother-in-law to figure out why my toaster smelled. I cleaned it, did everything. He took it, looked down at it (he's very tall), walked outside, and shot it in the garbage.

I was like "what the whuuut? That was my favourite red toaster!" He said "RedKap, there was a dead mouse in it."

Oh. Ok. I totally didn't see it, I swear! And then we cleaned for hours.

So this time, we planted a bunch of mouse poison. Poison I had bought for the last time, but didn't have the heart to put down. Poor wee mice, but seriously! I don't go to your place, so please stay out of mine!

Except this poison stuff had warnings like "Don't touch it! Don't breathe it in! Don't look at it! Don't think about it! Or you'll die! And so will all your family!"

So, there I was, standing there with yellow gloves on like a doctor (because I couldn't touch anything since I was placing the poison), my sister was on her hands and knees scrubbing the floor behind my fridge so I could put some back there too, and we're both yelling at my peskiest brother-in-law to grab something out of the grey cabinet in the spare room. Except we just said 'the grey thing', as in, the BIG F*CKING GREY CABINET IN THE MIDDLE OF THE SPARE ROOM. But he thought we meant 'the grey thing', as in, the itty-bitty, little grey box on the floor that you couldn't even tell was grey.

So we're yelling at him "THE GREY THING! THE GREY THING!"

And he's yelling back "THIS IS THE GREY THING!!!"

Yeah. We drank that night.