Oh what an eventful (traumatizing weekend).
On Sunday night I came home to find my roommate in tears. She was screaming and babbling about a rat. After she calmed down, she explained that a rat jumped on her when she opened our food pantry door. I jumped on her shirt and ran down her leg. Then it hid behind the fridge.
So she and I curled up into little balls, and locked ourselves in the living room away from the rat incident. We called Mark to come over and save the day.
When he got into the apartment he armed himself with a broom and a bowl (to trap it?) and went hunting. We made him move every piece of furniture in the whole house before we would stop crying.
The next day we bought sticky traps (so inhumane, but it's my sanity at stake!) and loaded them with chocolate and peanut butter. Monday morning I woke to find my roommate crying again! There was a live rat on the trap. He was still alive and struggling against the deadly goo. Again, we locked ourselves in the living room. We then called Mark, who was tired of saving the day. So we texted our Cambodian landlady and she came upstairs. She and her granny-friend ripped the rat off the trap and killed with their bare hands. It was so gruesome! UGh! I was sick to my stomach all morning after watching that! Why did I look!?! Dang, my curiosity. I've attached a picture so you can experience the horror too.
