Thursday, July 20, 2006

Ribbit

This morning, The Husband told me that he and the electrician saw a frog in the basement the other night. “I’m glad I wasn’t the one who found it,” I said.

“Well, I think frogs are pretty cute, actually,” said The Husband.

“Yes, but I wouldn’t have wanted to catch it!” I replied.

“Oh, we didn’t catch it,” he said.

“You just left it there?”

“Yup. And we haven’t seen it since, so…”

“OK,” I said, calmly. “So you’re telling me that we might have a frog permanently ensconced in our basement? A frog that will one day die and leave a little froggie corpse to rot?”

“Uh… yeah.”

As if the low ceilings and pipes covered with cobwebs and asbestos weren’t enough to keep me out of the basement.

1 comment:

Doktah said...

Y'know in grad school things were much different. Being poor, we had to live in "infested" houses. I remember Charlie. Charlie was a big rat who lived in a house that I also lived in. We had some mice that would scurry away when you walked into the kitchen. Not Charlie. When you walked in to the kitchen Charlie would look up at you annoyed that you were disturbing him. He was also annoyed at those silly little traps we left for him and that we insisted on putting his food in containers that was really hard to chew through. But, Charlie put up with us. Then, one day, Charlie was gone. I figured that he's finally had enough of tough plastic or that he'd taken over the entire house next door and decided it was nicer than sharing our crappy house with humans. But then we started to get a bad smell coming through the ducts. "What is that smell?!?" someone asked. All I could do was nod my head in sadness, "Charlie..."