I think I have 'blogger's block.' I have a million idea's floating (haha, this is a really funny pun...just wait and see) around in my noggin, but putting them into concrete, coherent sentences is proving to be a challenge. The truth is...I'm tired. My day goes something like this: 8:00am - Wake up (9:00 if Q wins the battle the night before...) 8:01am - Make Coffee 8:15am - Feed the Child 8:30am - 10:30am - Bond with the Child 10:30am - Make snacks 11:00am - Get the Child ready for school 11:15am - Feed the Child (I know...AGAIN...) 11:40am - Take the Child to School 12:15pm - "ME" time (read: Facebook, blog) 1:00pm - Get ready for work 2:30pm - Drive to train station 2:50pm - 45 minutes of smelly entertainment on the Skytrain 3:40pm - Coffee (I've left out about 2 or 3 coffee's...) 4:00pm - Midnight - Work (another story for another day...someday...) 12:06am - 12:50am - Another 45 minutes of smelly, drunken entertainment on the Skytrain... 1:00am - HOME!!! 1:01am - 3:00am - "ME" time (uh, Facebook? It sweetly sings my name) And then it starts all over again. I know you're wondering, "when does she do laundry?" "When does she clean the bathroom, do the dishes, eat????" Exactly. It doesn't get done all that often. In fact, it rarely gets done. I'd really like to hire a maid/chef/cabana boy, but it's not in the budget right now. This weekend, it all came to an embarrassing end. A whole week of dishes sat in the sink, clothes strewn on the floor, toys ummmm, everywhere. It didn't matter, though, because I still had clean dishes to use and clean underwear to wear. My plan was to clean on Sunday, and then vow to keep it that way forever. It would all be okay. And, I was the only one who saw it, right? WRONG!!! Q and I woke up to dripping. I didn't hear it at first, he did. Maybe it was raining out, I told myself. Maybe we left the sink dripping the night before. Maybe a rodent chewed through a PVC pipe in my son's room, creating a flood in the ceiling, and the 'dripping' sound was actually water pouring out of the light fixture, down the wall, and from the window. Yes, that must be it, sigh. In addition to the toys, dishes and clothes, I now had water, everywhere. A quick call to my landlord, and my worst nightmare (well, my worst nightmare is being stuck in an elevator, but this is a close second) came true. EVERYONE saw my mess. The landlords, the landlords mother and father, the landlords two children, the insurance agent, the plumber, and the pest control guy. It was humiliating. Absolutely. This was a long time coming though (not the mess, that only took a week...) One sunny summer day, a few months ago I noticed baby rats frolicking outside my window. Rats. Three rats. Rats. Does this evoke feelings of panic in anyone other than me??? I grew up in Alberta where we don't have rats. Seriously, we have the "Rat Patrol" relentlessly scouring the Alberta/BC border, wiping out the little effer's before they can infiltrate our beautiful province. So, the fact that I had not only one rat outside, but three freaked me right out. So, I made a call to the landlord, who brushed it off like it was nothing. He said he'd set a couple of traps and problem solved. Uh, no... A month or so later, the landlords return from a vacation to Fiji (which my rent no doubt paid for...) and they are welcomed by rat turds in their pantry. All of the sudden, it's a big deal. They call the Orkin man, who says the rats have set up shop in the attic. Traps are set and we wait. And wait. And wait. These effer's are smart. They know they're traps. They just know. Fast forward to a week ago. I hear scratching in the ceiling above my head. Oh, it can't be rats. Rats don't get in walls, I'm told. Hmmmm, Okay. What do I know? I grew up without rats (as previously mentioned, and yes....I am bragging) Except that I can hear it in my bedroom, and the bathroom. This gnawing, scratching sound that scurries away when I bang the ceiling with my broom. But again I'm told there's no way that rats can get through the floorboards in the ceiling above me, nor can rats get into walls. Alright. Again, what do I know? Maybe I'm just imagining it....every night.... Turns out, rats can fit in between the floorboards. And through walls. Also, rats like to chew through PVC piping (which I was also told was not possible...) The ceiling has been removed in Q's room. As has one whole wall. And part of the floor. I have a bed in my living room, and a tent in my bedroom (don't ask....okay, well haven't you ever thought it would be super cool to have a tent in your bedroom? Yes, so did I....only it was for Q...definitely not for me) I have rat traps in the rafters, a dehumidifier and a fan. I also have **unwelcome** guests showing up at the crack of dawn. I can now add contractors and Insurance appraisers as those who have seen me in my jammies, before my coffee, before the make up, and before I've brushed my teeth. And we don't even get to cuddle... Something tells me my "ME" time is going to be seriously interrupted. The insurance guy is coming back on Wednesday (he calls me Ma'am, how funny is that?) The pest control guy is back tomorrow afternoon. And the contractors will be here later this week. With fun like this, who needs to date? Who has time to date. I will admit though, and I'm sure you're all thinking what I'm thinking...Ooooooh, maybe one will be a cutie. Future husband? Hmmmmm.....maybe I'll start brushing my teeth before I answer the door. As a side note, the landlord says I will be compensated for my inconvenience. I'm thinking one month's rent. Just a thought.