Looks like that Thunderdome I predicted yesterday came true.
Sitting at the computer at the office (ie: My folks house) this morning, eyes glazed over from lack of sleep and caffeine, I heard the sound of little feet coming up the stairs.
Actually, it was more like a thundering herd of wildebeests charging full steam ahead: you guessed it. Rakes.
Mom was watching the boys so Ang could clean house for her lunatic Aunt, and by the look in his eye, big doings were afoot. Holding his cup of apple juice in one hand and a facial expression usually seen on people who have just won the lotto, he says:
"Daddy: dere is a dead mouse (pronounced the way Sylvester the Cat would do it: MOUSTHE) in Nanny's boom(broom) closet. And it's still MOBING (moving)! Tome on Dad, let's do see it!"
Of course, it was dead, but you would have thought he'd had found the prize in the box of Captain Crunch: he wanted to know where it's head was (the trap was upside down), what was in his mouth, and could he touch it. Could he touch it? I had rubber gloves on and was holding this thing like it was radioactive: no WAY he is touching this filthy rodent. Now remember, Trot is in the house too. He's 2 feet behind me with my Mom holding onto the waist of his pants, trying to keep him from grabbing the mouse and running to the closest toilet to try and flush it away, all the while yelling like some deranged myna bird.
As I'm walking to the door, the conversation goes as follows:
Rakes: What you donna do with it, Dad?
Me: Throw it in the woods, Rakes.
Rakes: Why, Dad?
Me: Because it's dead, son.
Rakes: You donna throw it by the tail, Dad? (I imagine he asked this because if HE was doing it, that mouse would be swung around in the air like a cowboy roping a calf for 20 seconds).
I told this story to one of my customers later on in the day. They wanted to know if Santa would bring the boys a hamster for Christmas. Like I would give those two a living, breathing thing to take care of. They'd have it's tail tied to the ceiling fan swinging a plastic bat at it within 45 minutes. Either that, or holding it's head under the water to see if it could hold it's breath.
Finally, Christmas came early this year: it looks like the Mike Lowell Saga has come to it's proper conclusion: Mikey back in a Red Sox uniform for the next 3 years.
Late Sunday night it sounds like the Phillies made it interesting, offering a 4 year, $50 million dollar deal: unlike others, it seems like Lowell decided being happy, on a winning team, and in a city that loves you is worth more than the $10-12 million extra. Senor Doubles appears to also be Senor Class.
Welcome back, Mikey.
Surrender the Farmhouse Sink
2 days ago