The Bad Day

I had a pretty wonderful day yesterday, consisting almost entirely of video games and TV. Poor Steve, on the other hand, got beaten to pieces.

It was bad enough that he stepped off the bus into a fire-ant nest. By the time he got home, he looked like he had half a baseball growing under the skin of his foot. He sucked it up without too much of a grimace.  Then, in an effort to obliterate the fruit flies taking over our house, he started sucking them up with the hose on the vacuum cleaner. (Which, by the way, is both effective and extremely satisfying.) Unaware that the roller on the bottom still moved when the hose was being used, he was less than careful and set it on his foot, painfully bruising his toe.

The kicker, though, came when it was time to put the rats back in their cage. Yes, we have pet rats. No, they’ve never given us any trouble, except by being fast sneaky little buggers who will fly out of our hands rather than going back in their cage. Last night, for some unknown reason, the smaller, more affectionate and more timid rat bit Steve. Hard. With no provocation. It bled profusely, and this morning the thumb was swollen.

But tomorrow, we’ll be in Six Flags Over Georgia, and soon even he will be able to laugh at this. I hope.


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