I am now at the point where I told hubby to take out all the kitchen cabinets down to the stud and start the fuck over, or blow up the house.
Hubby told me, “I pulled out the dishwasher and cemented the holes; there is no way the rats are chewing through that! And if they do, then you’ll get your new kitchen like you want.”
What hubby failed to do was his due diligence in rat cans and can’t do’s, because they ate through the cement like they were gnawing through Jello.
Hubby told me, “I’m going to get those exterminators out here tomorrow and get four more traps!” Meanwhile, my forgetful brain asked him where the traps were for this evening and he said, “OMG, they never showed up! I just realized that!”
Like a politician campaigning, this man I call spouse has done nothing but lie and tell me what he’s “gonna do” to take care of this. Better yet, he’s more like a divorced father in 1975 with, “the check’s in the mail,” nonsense. Okay fine, just my father.
Anyway, I think it’s time to blow up the house.