Fighting the good fight.

Thursday, September 12, 2013 -- 12:11 am

Update: I still hate tea.  But while Operation Tasty Tea failed utterly and horribly, I like to think I emerged from this experiment a better person.  At the very least, I now have a cupboard full of various fancy teas that I will probably never drink, as well as a small but very beloved assortment of library- and owl-themed tea mugs that I both love but have nothing to do with.  (No, you can't have my adorable owl mug.  What if I wake up tomorrow and suddenly crave tea?  It could happen.  DON'T TOUCH MY MUG.  *Hides away on the high shelf*)

It's okay though.  Who needs tea?  Stereotypes be damned, I will usher in a glorious new era of the 1% white milk-drinking librarian.  All of the tiny children will know me as the cool librarian who gives out stickers and advocates for strong bones (. . .or possibly diabetes, depending on whether I'm craving cherry koolaid that day.)

In other much more disturbing news, I've officially discovered how slugs have been getting their way into our house, and it is entirely 100% the fault of our dog.  Ezreal goes out to pee in the backyard and she's bringing slimy stowaways back inside with her.  In her fur.  Into the house.  And then proceeds to leave on the kitchen floor and basement carpet.  D:}  I literally just picked one off her ten minutes ago.  I HAVE HORRIFIC PHOTO EVIDENCE.

The puppy was in league with the enemy all along.

"OmgEW" does not even begin to describe it.  Slugs are a special brand of gross that soap and water and extra strength corrosive bleach just can't wash off your hands or your soul.  We now conduct mandatory in-depth slug checks every time Ezreal comes in from being outside at night or after it's rained.  If this persists too long I may be driven to bathing the puppy in beer and rolling her in salt to effectively create a bouncing, barking slug doomsday destroyer.  "Get them before they get you," and all that.  I'm not typically a genocide-loving individual -- except when things that are covered in slime cross the demilitarized buffer zone that is my door stoop.

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