That was gross, D.C.

WARNING....graphic images to follow. Please do not read or scroll down if you have a weak stomach.

So two days ago I returned from my early morning row to a small house crisis. My roommate calmly told me that we had a small problem....a rat had died right outside our front door. No big deal, I thought. In many of my previous living situations I have had all manner of critters, and I have dealt with them before. I began gathering several plastic bags with which I was planning on disposing of our rat. Taking my bags, I walked to the front door and stepped out. My voice immediately raised 10 notches, and I came quickly back inside. The size of this dead rat was well over anything i could deal with with a few measly plastic bags. It was enormous. And gross.

After using a few techniques from Psychological First Aid, my roommate and I were able to form a plan and attack the situation. She had a snow shovel; I had a broom. We finally corralled the dead rat into about five plastic bags, and then into another trash bag. I'll leave the details of this transfer out, but know that it was gross, and it might have involved some tears. We then bleached the heck out of the broom.

Here's the culprit (I am including this picture by request)....he's about the size of a brick. Nothing like waking up to this guy in the morning...