It’s about 2am and I just finished doing one of the most poop-ular things in the world: cleaning a rat cage. I love my furry little buggers. I really do. But I will never understand how creatures that small can produce so much waste. Honestly, every time I clean the cage, it looks like someone dumped little drops of Marmite along the underside of their bedding. (Marmite… hmmm… that kind of took it to a strange place. *looks left… looks right… continues*) Cleaning the cage involves a lot of soap and water, as it’s glass on five sides, so I inevitably end up covered in suds and wishing I had a magic wand to charm the poo and bacteria away. Halfway through cleaning, I realized I didn’t have any paper towels to dry the cage, so I decided to walk to Speedway—a local gas station/convenience store—to pick some up. Oddly enough, 2 in the morning is a great time to be wandering around outdoors. The weather is nice, there aren’t a lot of cars driving about, and no one is around to call you a weirdo when you leave a gas station with a roll of Bounty and a shredded pork burrito. Thankfully, when I got back, the rest of the process went well and the rats are now happily jumping around and making noise, which seems to be their “thing” as they get bigger and bigger.

“Himalayan butt rot” is something I mention a lot. I don’t remember when it started, nor do I remember why, but it’s a phrase I love to use. (Example: “Wow, Cindy… you don’t look human today. I thought you got over your Himalayan butt rot last week.”) I tried Googling it today and found that there are no results for it. (What?! That’s madness!) So here’s my attempt at finally getting the horrible, tragic plague of Himalayan butt rot out there for all of Googledom to observe. (Well… not so much observe, as that would require pictures. And since Himalayan butt rot is a fictitious disease, there are no known photographs.)

Ok… I should really be doing a load of laundry right about now, but I’m going to be lazy and watch “Good Eats” instead. (Yay, me!) Be good, stay safe, and don’t run with scissors. (Mom totally wasn’t lying about that one.)

Until next time…