And not the way I usually use the word. I mean, RATS. Actual rats.
They have been chewing through everything and leaving their stinky poo everywhere.
I was marginally upset when they chewed through my bag of flour and it poured everywhere. I was quite intrigued at how sharp their little teeth were when they ate into a thick plastic cold pack thing. I was a bit worried when I saw they’d chewed another hole in the gib board at the back of our pantry. But I was absolutely freaking furious when I saw they’d got this:
And this is not even mentioning how gross it is that I’ve had rats pooing and chewing and walking and licking all over my pantry. How feral.
I just need to take a moment and go to a happy place.
Now onto happier things. I went for my run. I almost died. I got ‘the stitch’ half way down the damn road and powered on (at snail’s pace… but let’s not get into details) with a knife stabbing under my rib. Gaz just laughed at me and refused to let me stop. Then he got stitch on our way back from the beach and actually, properly almost died. I think his words were “How the hell did you run with that?” Because I am tough. Extremely tough. Errmmmm yeah.
So we made it back with minimal dying. And I enforced stretching. I felt fabulous for the rest of the day even. But now I am exhausted and my legs are starting to tighten up. I can’t wait for the inevitable almost-dying again tomorrow. THIS is why I avoid exercise.