You Dirty Rat

28 Mar

blog image ratatouille

To:  Spouse

From:  Management

Subject:  Dried Fruit Policy

When you spill dried blueberries on the floor and then, say, answer a ringing phone, or gaze out the window, what happens is this: your attention gets diverted from the dried blueberries on the floor long enough so that when you resume whatever it was you were doing before you spilled the dried blueberries on the floor, the blueberries have become a distant memory of “having at one time spilled” or “a nagging, unformed thought” that remain, in reality, dried blueberries scattered all over the floor, everywhere.

Now, those of you who have seen dried blueberries spilled on a floor are probably already aware of how dried blueberries on a floor look like rat turds in a corner.

Which is how, while searching the pantry for a Tagalong (or three), I came to screaming my head off amidst a mountain of scat. 

Convinced that we had Pixar’s “Ratatouille” (minus the cuteness and cooking skills) running rampant throughout the house, I yelled and yelled until I became weary.  Then I had two thoughts:

a movie about a gourmet restaurant with an animated rat running the kitchen- how did that even get made?

And secondly-

“I bet The Boy is eating in his room.  All those nights when he put spoons under his pillow because the teachers at school said that that’s how you get a snow day- he was probably eating yogurt with those spoons.”

Blueberry yogurt.”

“Blueberry Greek yogurt.”  (I’m not sure why I added the Greek part but it sounds ominous.)

“What if the house is now crawling with rats and we have to move and our house is condemned and we end up in the gutter?

Where there are even more rats.  Plus squirrels and rusty cans and things!

What then?  How could this happen?”

I screamed for as long as I could and as loud as I could.  (Answer: pretty long and very loud.)

I hollered right up until Spouse said “and so I guess I just forgot.”

Then it got quiet.  Eerily quiet.

So quiet and so still.

And I was so tired and so drained.

We had no choice but to go out for dinner.

We may even have to go out for dinner again tomorrow.

Effective immediately, new dried fruit policy: you spill it, you clean it and I pick the restaurant.

cc: Boy.

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2 Responses to “You Dirty Rat”

  1. wanderingflatlander March 29, 2013 at 8:53 am #

    I’m noticing some parallels between guns and fruit. guns don’t kill people people kill people- I know this because a bumper sticker told me. I think you need to to evaluate your relationship with fruit. It has played a central theme in your latest blogs. Fruit doesn’t kill people, people kill fruit. or people kill people with fruit. Look how fruit is affecting your relationships. That poor boring boy in your last blog. Your husband scared to touch fruit cuz it might go bad.
    Fruit safety training. If you want my fruit you’ll have to tear it from my cold dead hands. The second amendment protects my right to bear fruit. I’m starting a fruit militia. (local, organic, cruelty free)

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