Friday, September 10, 2010

Morning has broken, so has my spirit

Once upon a time there was a little farmhouse. And in this little farmhouse lived two homosexuals. One was a lapsed hippie, the other a bit of a city boy...

I must admit to being completely overwhelmed and impressed with the place that le bf was staying in when I met him. The place that we still call home. A quaint, if somewhat dilapidated farmhouse dating from the 19th century on the property of the iconic Sammy Mark Museum. It looks very romantic, has lots of space and some really nice views.

Unfortunately it also has what I like to call the Satanic minions of Mother Nature. Rats, bugs, snakes and sometimes - just for a bit of variety - scorpions. I know it's only natural to have them occupying parts of the house seeing as how we are on a farm property and there doesn't seem to be much distinction between outside and inside, but sometimes it gets a bit too organic. "Bring the outside inside" - Fuck off Top Billing, you clearly have no idea of the implications a statement like that has.


One of the many horribly close encounters with said creatures happened one evening as I lay sleeping peacefully. I remember being in that half awake state, where you're not quite sure where you are, or what's happening. It felt like something was tickling my face. In my semi-unconscious state it felt like a really big moth and I reached up to slap it away. The next minute I feel something running down my leg. This more or less achieved the same effect as six cups of coffee and a cold shower. I was upright in the bed just in time to see the rat running along the floor and into a crack in the wall. The big fat Mamelodi township rat.

I promptly woke up le bf, who responded heroically to the news of a mutated rat gnawing at my face with: "So what do you want me to do about it?". I relocated to a part of the house with a seemingly more dormant rat population and was joined 10 minutes later by le bf after a rat tried to chew on his foot. We bought industrial strength rat poison the very next day.

It had to take a rat on my face to get le bf to buy rat poison because he believed, in the face of mounting evidence, that nature was a soft cuddly friendly place that you needed to get in touch with as much as possible.

Pictured: Nature lying in ambush.

A year passed, and in that time I was "suprised" by nature no less than 4 times. A rat jumped off a shelf at me while I was looking for a plate. A rat that I was trying to force out from behind the fridge ran up instead of down and ending up taking a flying leap at my face. Another rat (notice the pattern. I see you Mother-fucking-Nature.) investigated my foot and part of my leg while I was brushing my teeth.

One evening I took my place upon the porcelain throne in the bathroom when I noticed what appeared to be a plastic snake on the little ledge opposite the toilet. Le bf was forever moving things around the house and finding weird stuff to decorate it with, so in my mind this was a distinct possibility and also the only reason why I proceeded to touch it. It moved and it was just as well that I was on the loo at that point in time. I proceeded to inform le bf of the little invader and much hilarity ensued as we approached the snake (it later transpired that it was a harmless house snake) with brooms, pans, etc.

I also have a permanent vendetta with the wasps that insist on making their nests in the house, on the backs of paintings, on curtains, the bottom of chairs. They have the whole bloody Bosveld in which to build their flipping nests! But they insist on using the house trip switches and other fun places as their base of operations. I've taken to spraying the hell out of any I find and posting their mangled little corpses at all main entrances to the house with signs saying: "Enter at your own risk you little bastards!".

Anyway, the view we have of the valley is simply spectacular.

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