We have an old home.
Which had absolutely no insulation.
I mean, like none.
Bryce was on a quest to remedy that.
We have a basement.
We wanted to spray the ceiling with spray foam insulation.
And the duct work.
The duct work had old bat insulation wrapped around it.
It used to be a bright yellow.
Now it is dusty, crusty puke colored brown.
To spray the duct work, that stuff had to come down.
Bryce was conveniently 'away' or at work...whatever.
I equipped myself with mask, sweater with hood, and work gloves.
I got to it.
Know what happened?
It rained rat poop.
Oh man, I wish I was kidding.
Three shriveled, emaciated rat carcasses.
An "occasional", i.e. every second like clock work scream.
And lots of walnut shells.
A huge pile of disgusting bat insulation which I refuse to have any more to do with.
I will nev-er be the same.
I called Bryce and told him he owed me dinner.
I said nothing less will be tolerated.
It was the least he could do.
I spent minutes telling him how gross that was
and how big he owed me
and how I shouldn't have to do stuff like that
and how he was in charge of cleaning the rest of that up
and how if I see another piece of evidence of rat it's going to get ugly
and how he doesn't know how good he has it
and how I'm going to use this as leverage for the rest of his life.
He came home and took me out to dinner.