mike: Well, I cannot light the grill right now because, and this is something I never thought I would say. Actually, just guess, do you have any idea?
me: Is something wrong with the grill? I mean, other than that I can't think of anything else.
mike: No, the grill's fine. I cannot light it because --pause for dramatic effect-- I just saw a mouse run in there.
--I stare at him to make sure he's not just making shit up. Then I realize that's way too oddly specific to be made up, and I don't think he's that good of an on the spot story teller so if he didn't want to grill he would just say so. So there really is a mouse in
me: Ewww! You're right though that is something I never would have eve imagined either. Now what do we do?
I call upon my trusty sidekick (to the internets!) and turns out that mice in grills are not super uncommon because it's a dry place they can nest. I want to start cooking, but neither one of us is willing to just turn on the flames and risk essence of mouse. And we want to disinfect the hell out that thing and all it's parts too before either one of us feels comfortable putting any sort of food on there. So Mike is taking the pieces out and I'm just about to pour the vinegar/water/soap mixture (an internets concoction) all over the grill when the mouse runs out and across the concrete slab the builder thought was an acceptable thing to call a a patio* and disappears into the grass.
Startled, I scream bloody murder. Due in part because OMG I have just seen a MOUSE run out of my grill!!! And also omg I just saw a mouse run out of
So now Mike is on his own to take care of all the man things outside, clean and disinfect the grill, and laugh at his wife who flew into the kitchen and is currently jumping and flapping around in wayward circles still freaking the fck out. Needless to say, I made dinner in the over that night. And wore my rain boots that go up to my knees the next time I went outside.
**What can I say, I grew up in Kentucky.***
***Nope. No brothers.****