I'm hanging a piece of yarn, strung with crumbling sparkly leaves, across the dining room window ("for our fall decoration look!") when I hear a knock at the door. Don't have my glasses on or my contacts in, so it could be Santa or the UPS man or a serial killer. My dog reacts the same to any and all: JOY! BARKING!
I hop down (leaves unceremoniously fall to the ground) and grab the baby while I hustle to the door. Both feet/legs/abdomen all become tangled in ball of string. It unravels and tangles through many chairs/block towers/exersaucer as I make my way to the door.
Oh, cool! It's the pest guy. Who, with zero warning, always shows up around dinner time to check our ancient house for pest activity. I just can't with this.
George is losing his mind. Harper ran outside to hunt for more leaves and I can't see her anywhere. Baby is screaming and trembling because pest guy is giving off Weird Man Vibe. The boiling water for rice is overflowing and the hotdog is burning and I am a mummy of string.
But yes! I am super excited that you and your muddy boots and Weird Man Vibe are here to look around my house for tiny mouse activity. This is a really good time for that.
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