People often ask, "What's it like living on Hawaii." And generally my response is "Alohatastic." Living on a small island isn't as claustrophobic as I had originally imagined. The first month we moved here, I refused to drive to the end of the road to give an (de) illusion of space.
Quickly, that was revealed to be a poor tactic because A) the "end of the road" is the enticing Na Pali Coast and B) really, my day to day life is something of an island. By this I mean my day generally consists of: wake up, work, shop/gym, cook dinner with an occasional evening swim. This was also my routine most other places I've lived. Wildly exciting, no? Pretty typical, yeah probably. So that leaves weekends for exploring and the beaches and mountains are nice enough that it never feels like "Oh jeez, another sunset..." "Ohia trees again? Booooring!"
However there is (as in all good things) some sort of hidden not-so-good thing. In our case it is:
Don't be fooled by the deceptively cute face, these guys have the cunning and iron will of a vel0ciraptor.
I had the head cold from hell a few weeks ago and one night did not close the back door properly. The cunning creatures who have grown fat feasting on the rotten guavas, mango and java plum surrounding our treehouse had their chance served up on a golden platter. That night I dreamed of rats. The next evening I was meeting them face on in the kitchen.
We (by this I mean Nick) got the two insurgents out of the house but by then the proverbial blood was in the water. Rats were suddenly peeking in the windows while I tried to sip tea, scrambling over the tin roof, and worse....methodically testing all doors. At night they would hurl their wiry bodies at the two doors, again and again, like maybe just maybe this time I left the door ajar.
So last night Nick set the traps. Body count: 1.5 One rat has gone to the land of the everlasting guava tree. One rat is missing a few toes, escaping with his bubonic plague as Nick tried to plunge him into a water bucket while I sat on the bed plugging my ears. Yes, I am a hypocrite. I hate the rats. I hate the rat poop left in my shoes outside. But I can't bring myself to execute one.