Wednesday, December 23, 2009
One night I heard some shuffling sounds coming from my kitchen. I was in a peaceful sleep, but was fully awakened by the sounds. This was a few weeks after the mouse incident, so I knew what was likely waltzing around my recycling bags. I turned on my light, and looked intently towards the kitchen. Out ran a big mouse. He disappeared. Then I heard a shuffling noise again, this time closer to my kitchen table. I stared intently in that direction. My 'I Teach NYC' book bag was hanging from a chair. To my complete astonishment, a rat head peered out of that bag. Just the head. I gawked for a second, then said to him, 'You are a rat. And you are in my book bag.' He descended knowingly. I kept staring, this time at the spot where his little rodent head made it's appearance. Out he popped again. Just the head. I think he realized he was being watched. Down he returned, no doubt feeling safe amongst my lesson plans. I was too full of adrenalin to consider that he may have hitched a ride with me from school to my house in this very bag. My thoughts were on immediate removal of his being from my apartment. As I walked to the kitchen to grab my broom, I kept a constant eye on the opening of my bag. I knew I only had a few seconds to act. I used the broom handle to lift the bag by its strap, opened my door and walked out with my package, then closed the door behind me. I dropped my bag on the hallway rug, and lifted the flap of the bag with the handle of the broom. Out scurried a six inch long subway rat, and down the stairs he ran. I was appalled to witness this, but pleased with the excecution of my rodent removal skills. I went back inside, wondering how I was going to continue living a normal life now that I knew parasitic mammals had free access to my home. With the help of an experienced exterminator with a strong flashlight, we were able to find the exact location of the point of entry. I could once again breath and sleep in peace. I would say the experience did not change me as a whole. I do check cautiously every time I open the door now to make sure he doesn't try to sneak back in. I wonder when I will start letting my guard down again?
Posted by Tamar at 2:19 PM
Monday, December 07, 2009
La Mort du Fossoyeur, Carlos Schwabe, 1895
Here is a nice little test I would like to share with you: The Death Test. I was visiting my favorite testing site when I stumbled upon this. Feel free to take it.
At the end of the the test, they ask participants to share a heartwarming story about a loved one who died. Some are less heartwarming than others.
"Uncle Steve: I took my uncle out to lunch one day, at a diner. He ordered a chopped liver sandwich. I have taken many people out for dinner/lunch over the years, but he was the only one that ordered a chopped liver sandwich."
—TS, new york ny
"me and my grandpa used to go fishing twic a month an the month he died we went fishing for our last time a week b4 his death"
—maw, sutherland va
"God grant peace to the souls of Irina, Sergey and Anastasia and all who passed away all around the worldy"
"My father died of smoking related illness. I left my parents when I was 7 years old. We reunited when I was 18... a year later my father was diagnosed with lung cancer... half a year later he passed away."
—s.h, West Covina, California
"The last time I saw him, I was 21 and pregnant with my first child. He arrived, clean shaven (which was rare) and with two long-stemmed white roses... one for me, and one for the baby. That was Easter Sunday, and he was gone before it was June. I still bring white roses when I visit his grave."
—tk, Cambridge, MA
"i was my grandmother's favorite grandson."
—ar, Los Angeles, CA
"My best friend Clavin died at 17 from a blood clot in his leg."
—JN, Piscataway, New Jersey
"My husband passed in Katrina. I didn't find out until i went to volunteer to help the animals (im a vet tech) that where left abandoned or homeless from the storm :("
—K, Southeast florida
"My grandmother taught me to crochet.She was so proud of me."
"I don't have any heartwarming stories about someone dear to me who is dead"
—KIP, Camp Lejeune, NC
Posted by Tamar at 8:54 AM