My Return to Hell

It's tomorrow. 

I have to go back there tomorrow. 

I will no longer be myself.

I will become unstrung.

I will have no concentration.

The simplest tasks will be difficult.

I will continually be on the verge of tachycardia.

My stomach will be flitty.

I will not sleep due to micemares. {Meglish}

I will be startled every 2 minutes, perhaps more frequently.

I will feel things crawling up my legs.

I will veiw every spec of dust as mouse poop.

I will wince when I open a drawer.

I will jump back from cabinets.

I will stand on chairs.

I will scream like a raving maniac. 

I will be afraid to look at Alvin's mouth.

Perspective....

I will see my love, Frannie.

(she will sense my hysteria & commence the customary licking of the feet)

I will see my children.

I will visit my Bubbly at her new house. 

It will be Thanksgiving.

I will return to Lola. 

I will finally have the opportunity to stitch out my Claudia lessons. 

I have all this to take back for Lolafication.

Nope...not helping.

I will not be able to focus on Lola...

I will be completely preoccupied with keeping myself safe from furry intruders. 

I do not want to go there. 

I simply can not.

It's too much for me. 

There have been 10 caught in the past month. 

I'm sure there are colonies living in the ceilings & walls. 

Nests in every nook and cranny.

I suspect they have crawled on my precious fabrics. 

What if they are in the folds of my yardage?

What if they have snacked on my treasured batiks?

Traversed my beautiful Lola?

Attacked my batting?

My thread stash?

My waiting for binding pile? 

Murray has again today met again with his incompetent exterminator. 

They can't find the entry point. 

Why must this man hire idiots?

They assure me they are only in the storage room & no where near my studio.

Do they think I am mindless?

Of course they have been out of the storage room.

Alvin brought one to Herman....IN THE KITCHEN. 

How hard can it be to rid a well kept home of rodents?

Isn't this his specialty?

How can a grown man be outsmarted by hordes of disgusting one ounce creatures?

Usually writing helps me put things in perspective. 

Not today...

I'm overwrought. 

How will I ever board that plane tomorrow?

And why am I regardless of lizards?

But completely terror stricken by the thought of a single mouse?

Heres a link to a NYT article that I found today...proof that it is truly a rag.

http://www.nytimes.com/2014/11/11/nyregion/white-rat-in-the-curious-incident-is-unexpected-broadway-hit.html?_r=0

How is it these people can entertain a rat in their home?

At least I know I am not the MOST unhinged person alive.

I just can't imagine being back there living the horror. 

Where is my mommy when I need her?

I request your prayers for my fortitude.

Try to be kind...