I had thought that the damage to the carpet under the bed was caused by the ARSEHOLE FECKING BASTARD moths. However, for the last few nights, H and I have been kept awake by scritching, rasping, rustling and squeaking, and, you know, the ARSEHOLE FECKING BASTARD moths weren’t doing nearly as much damage as a small and clearly heavily pregnant mouse, who is tearing out tufts of our carpet for nesting material. Or, possibly, is eating moth-shit. I do so hope she’s eating moth-shit.
This is particularly infuriating because the in-Laws are coming to stay overnight, and I am now haunted by visions of them being woken in the night by cantering squadrons of vermin raiding their luggage.
Meanwhile, H is reacting to the joys of the new job, new colleagues, new desk, and new germs by developing a sore throat and upset stomach, and generously sharing the sore throat with me (I politely declined the stomach bug, so I can fit in some sneezing-with-impunity). We have sex occasionally anyway.
I am waiting to ovulate (again. For the quadrillionth time. Oh, I am so over it. (Don’t tell Satsuma that. I still don’t trust her not to storm off, slamming the fimbriae)). Therefore, I spent the day scrubbing floors and cleaning toilets while H hoovered and shunted furniture about. We rock so very hard.
Having the entire flat pervaded with small chewing shitting incontinent noisy pests is also an extreme buzzkill. Especially as we gave birth to none of them.