I swear, I must smell like ambrosia to rodents. They follow me everywhere, like some sort of phobia-honing precision missile.
After last week’s rodent-sighting, I alerted my coworker, who is equally as rodent-phobic as I am, so she could be forewarned. Today I received a frantic skype from her in the office next door:
[2:12:16 PM] MB: the mouse is in my room
[2:13:22 PM] Erin: Ewwwwwwwwwwwww
[2:13:33 PM] MB: I just saw it run out… then run back behind the box. I need someone to come and get rid of it or do something… I’m all alone and can’t put my feet down or turn my back to it.
[2:13:59 PM] Erin: Ummm. I’m not raising my hand. Sorry.
[2:14:23 PM] MB: you know it will come to you next!!!!
[2:14:42 PM] Erin: you want me to go get someone?
[2:14:48 PM]MB: now you’re catching on 🙂
[2:14:59 PM] Erin: ok hang on
After I alerted one of our coworkers who went to investigate and discovered a hole in the wall it had run in to, I asked her if I sent sufficient help. Her response?
[2:18:42 PM] MB: well, he’s more worried about the snakes that might be around because there’s a mouse here.
Didn’t really comfort me.
The Sudanese in the office the proceeded to mock us khwajas (finally figured out the arabic word here used for “white person”) for being afraid of the rat, because here many people eat rodents. Ummm…
They put up a plastic board and a heavy box in front of the hole the rat ran into. Maybe he’ll suffuicate and die in there. And it’s the only one. And no more will come.
Yeah. And maybe the Sahara will turn into an ocean.