Let me explain. It started with an email conversation my writing friend, Angela Fox, and I were having. She said, "I don't give a rat's tush* what So-N-So** thinks."
(*Not the real word she used)
(**Not the real name she used.)
I wrote back to her, "Well, it's a good thing you don't give a rat's tush what So-N-So thinks, because I clearly remember you promising me all of your rats' tushes."
Sometimes I am witty in my emails like that.
But Angela is always wittier, because at the book launch she showed up and gave me plastic rats all through the event. Some of them were as big as chihuahuas and had scary red eyes. I laughed a lot. People probably thought Angela and I were a little strange, which strictly speaking is true.
I brought the rats home and tried to find a place for them. I must admit I'm having trouble finding the right spot. At first I tried one of the doll cases. (I have three.)
It didn't seem to be a good match. So then I tried the coffee table.
But I thought visitors might not appreciate the rat motif. So then I tried upstairs by the reading angel which sits next to one of the bookcases. (I have eight--but that's not a sign of hoarding because I'm a writer.)
Here you can see some of the smaller rats. They're gray. Knowing that this surface is frequently engulfed in clutter (which is normal because I have five children, and so is not a sign of hoarding tendencies either) I decided to try the rats in my room.
Here they are on my dresser.
As you can see, they didn't work here either. My dolls look distinctly creeped out by the rats. (And yes, even though I have three doll cases, I still can't fit all my dolls into them, which actually may be a symptom of hoarding, but we aren't going to talk about that.)
So, while I try to find a place for the rats, my friendly little dog is doing everything she can to welcome the new editions.
