Monday, October 8, 2007

Explaining death.

So I ended up not going to work today, since I could not talk. I could whisper, and boy could I hack up a lung, but I could not talk.
I stayed home and thought that a drugged-up, blissful sleep would be just the thing to get one to feel better. BUT, how can one do that when their house smells of rancid death and the gruesome cleaner would be here doing a bang-up job of sucking mysterious items out of the vents in the house?
It wasn't as loud as I thought it would be. But it was not the picture of quiet calm, the background of good dreams and sleep. Oh no it was not.
The cleaner got here at 10:30 and left a little after 2:30. My poor little S, instead of staying out and playing, came home and woke me out of the nap I had just slipped in to.
I guess she wanted to know if the cleaner had found Tom. I guess what I didn't realize is that she really, figuratively thought that "finding Tom" meant, an alive Tom. A sparkling, beady eyed, gosh give him some sliced almonds Tom. Oh dear. So I buttered her up with a store bought rice krispie treat, and told her that Tom was dead. (In a very nice, I'm so sorry mom type of way.) I thought for sure she had figured that since the stupid thing was down the vents...somewhere...that he was not frolicking and having fun finding old moldy things to feast on! The dirty vents don't seem to picture of some club med type of vacation away from the pleasure-dome of hamster homes. I don't think you could have paid me to stick my bare hand past the light of day of the vent due to the pure disgustingness of it all.
So she broke in to tears and I consoled with a big hug and my cracking sick voice.
She asked if we could get mice.
I have no comment for that.
What she has been spared of is that the smell is still out there. And why, would my house still reek after four hours of sucking, blowing and antibacterializing?
Well folks, not only did the hairy little ball of fur go down in to the vents, he also, most likely, went all the way to the actual furnace and his little body is frying right there where you can not get to him.
I guess you can't get IN the furnace. Unless you do those things for a living and know how to dismantle and re-assemble a furnace. The cleaner seems to think that he probably fell right on the burner plates and it cooking a little bit more and more each time the furnace turns on.
So he sprayed the fogger-antibacterial solution down into the furnance (where you can see) and told me to just crank that ol furnace up and cook that bugger out of there.
I'm trying not to visualize it, but it is really hard not to.
Well, I'm going to get child #2 and take them out to play since the weather is not snowing or freezing. So that means we need to get out of the death hole.

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