Friday night, in the dead dark of midnight, our yard was invaded by a creeping terror that rocketed the dogs into their highest alert and defense mode and got my heart rate going above established safe levels. It came from the hole in our courtyard that leads straight to the bowels of Mazatlan. I should probably back up a minute and explain.
Right after the first big storm of the season, we started having drainage problems, particularly in the dressing room bathroom. If the toilet was flushed twice in a short space of time, water started squirting four feet into the air through the bolt holes at the base. Not good. We called our landlord. She promptly sent over her handyman.
The handyman arrived and started turning on faucets and flushing toilets. He was quickly able to reproduce the problem, creating a spectacular geyser in the bathroom. I figured once he saw the problem, he would call the roto-rooter to come clean out the drain line. It was pretty obvious that the magnificent quantities of water the storm produced had washed some sand and debris into the drain line, partially blocking it. At least it was to me.
It didn't take long watching the handyman work for it to be abundantly clear that he has no plumbing experience or practical knowledge whatsoever. The first thing he did, without warning, was to pull out the toilet. The bathroom is pretty small, so I wasn't watching him. It turns out there was no wax seal under the toilet, and the house was built before pvc drainpipe was common, so the toilet was pretty much sitting above a hole in the ground. In no time at all, he had stinking filth covering the entire floor, the walls, my (not so) fluffy (anymore) bath mat, and the Egyptian cotton towels I brought down with me from the US. I started to shake.
Since Chuck had no success of dampening the enthusiasm of not-a-plumber guy, who was having as much fun as a kid making mud pies, he sent me into the office, where at least I wouldn't be able to watch the horror.
I made the mistake of coming out of the office about an hour later to get a cold drink and found my house full of holes. There were giant holes in the sidewalk and the garage, and a hole in the courtyard, all leading directly into the sewer. Not-a-plumber guy's new diagnostic tactic was to repeatedly pour buckets of water into the holes. All of the color drained from my face, and I stood there stupefied at the scene before me. Chuck sent me out of the house.
I have no idea what transpired after I left. Chuck didn't volunteer the information, and I judged it better not to ask. I do know that Chuck did not call me home until he has washed and mopped every square inch of the bathroom and laundered the bath mat and towels. Thankfully, the holes in the sidewalk and garage had been covered, but the hole in the courtyard remained. Chuck did his best to camouflage the hole by covering it with some potted plants. The hole still remains to this day, as the plumbing work is not yet completed. (We do now have an actual plumber who is installing pvc drains.)
So now you know where the hole in the courtyard came from.
So, there we were Friday night, pleasantly tucked in our bed, sleeping soundly. We each had one dog curled up on the floor next to us. It was very Norman Rockwell. Suddenly, both dogs leaped up and exploded out the door into the courtyard. We both instantly went from peacefully asleep to violently awake. In the two heartbeats it took for Chuck to swing his feet to the floor we heard two, quick, chittering screams. By the time he was standing there was silence. He rushed the four steps to the door, and I heard, "Tasha! Drop it!"
Chuck got the dogs back in the bedroom while I went through the house and turned on the outside lights so we could get a look at what had upset the dogs so. There it was. A rat. A rather dead rat. I know how quick Tasha can be, but I forget because most of the time she is a really goofy dog. She had shaken the rat and snapped its neck pretty efficiently, so I don't think I have to worry about any of them taking up residence.
When Tasha came back into the bedroom, she kept hurling her tongue out of her mouth, as if trying to keep it on the outside of her body. I checked her carefully to see if she had been bitten, but in the absence of any blood, I finally realized she was begging, "Please, please, please, take this rodent foulness from my tongue." I served her all of the ice water she could drink, and wondered if she might appreciate a shot of tequila.
Once we all calmed down a little, we began to contemplate what to do with the body. The trash was picked up just a few hours earlier, and the trash men would not come by again until Monday night. That meant we had 72 hours to live with the corpse in the heat of Mazatlan summer. Ick. Chuck sealed it tightly in a garbage bag. I should have put it in the freezer, but I just couldn't deal with the concept, so Chuck deposited it in the outside trashcan, which we discovered by Sunday night was not the brightest of ideas.
Chuck has now taken the steel side off of one of the old computer cases we have lying around and put it over the hole, under the potted palm tree. I am more eager than ever to move along this project and get the hole permanently covered over. I don't really want to find out what else might come crawling out.
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|200.77.75.xxx |m-d-Y H:i:s NancyIf I am ever bored I'll know to go to your house. You always have something exciting going on!
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|SAdministrator |m-d-Y H:i:s jenniferEh, maybe I make it sound more exciting than it is with my penchant for adjectives.
I gotta say, I think you have better karma than me. For house projects you get a beautiful addition to your sala fresca, and I get pvc drains. Hmmm....
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|200.56.144.xxx |m-d-Y H:i:s santiagoQuit it gurl. Or I may bring you your real fear.... ARANYA? spelling.
Thanks for the help with the glasses, as far as the mechanic who is alway's open. GO FIGURE.
Rained on the YELLOW ROSE OF TEXAS, but she handled it well.
All in all another great day in Mexico.
They eat rats in some countries ya know. Yur a good cook. JAJAJAJA
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|189.174.203.xxx |m-d-Y H:i:s Larry in Mazatlan - Join the ClubTwice we've had a rat swim in from the sewer to appear in our downstairs toilet. The first one was dead when I found it. The second was very much alive, but couldn't get out of the toilet bowl. Thankfully! I won't go into detail how is was dispatched.
As luck would have it, a house guest discovered the second, live, one. I love it when people visit from up north and get a picture of life here. Not common, but it happens.
Larry
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|SAdministrator |m-d-Y H:i:s jenniferOh man, Larry, you are making it impossible for me to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. What an unhappy surprise! *shudders*
Although, when I substituted the image of my mother for your house guest in my head, I got a good chuckle.
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|200.52.221.xxx |m-d-Y H:i:s heliosmazmiguelI you are seriously thinking of moving...
let me know...
not that I want to move to your place ...
hm
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|208.18.90.xxx |m-d-Y H:i:s Jessicahttp://www.cgi.com/web/en/home.htm
I promise to send pics as soon as I get them downloaded!!!!
Don't worry about the cities on the site, remote is good
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