I have a dream. It's a dream I have been dreaming of since 2006. It's a dream I rarely talk about because I pretty much know it's not going to happen.
You see, my family lives in the house where I grew up. Much as I would want to call it my own -- since my Mom and Dad have passed away already, I still can't since it is a family home. A home where my Dad's family lived and where 2 of my aunts also live downstairs. It is the home where my Dad's family comes home to when they come for vacations.
It is almost 30 years old. The tiles have cracked, the walls have been stained, the pipes leak. It is our home. But I can't help but dream of having my own house. A home free of clutter, a home which I can decorate and furnish, a home I can paint with colors of my choice. A home free of rodents and roaches.
Last Saturday, we finally caught the culprit. The culprit who has been destroying so much of our house -- nibbling on the wood, eating the electrical wires, eating our food. We tried mouse traps and rodent papers but it just kept outsmarting us. It was giving me nightmares!
My aunt prepared a whole bowl of nasty rat poison. I was praying it would hit the rat real bad because if it would survive the poison, then it would be able to survive more poison after.
During breakfast, while we were eating, our househelp was mixing coffee when she suddenly gasped. The nasty rat was right in front of her. My husband got up to see but the rat turned around and slowly ran into the laundry room -- where it had been living for the past months. The househelp ran to the room to take a peek and see what it was doing. She said it was moving very slow and couldn't climb up anymore. After a few minutes, my husband went to take a look. He said it looked like it was dying. It kept trying to climb up the wall but it kept falling down. It finally turned on its side and died.