Forgive the clickbait title. It’s just that my roommate Sydney is a rat. I don’t like him.
When I say he is a rat I mean that. He is the biggest rat I have ever seen but I have only met him properly once. Two weeks ago I was full of innocence when I opened the toilet lid to, well, you know, and there he was. Staring up at me with a grin on his face and I swear he was as big as the bottom of the bowl. He dived into the water and crawled into the pipe as I roared in horror and jumped back.
I have been searching how I am supposed to get rid of rats from the toilet bowl since then and the only advice I could find was that bleach would help. He returns sometimes in the early hours of the morning, and I know this by the random splashes, the oil stains, the smell, and the splashes on the lid the following morning (and no. Don’t blame me!).
One time at 3am I heard the splash and jumped out of bed. “Die you rat bastard!” I shouted, pouring the bleach into the toilet and flushing, hoping it would reach Sydney stuck in a hole somewhere.
I call him Sydney not because I miss Australia while at the same time hating that Sydney, but because it’s a cool name for a rat. I first wanted to name him SG (for Shits & Giggles) but I did actually miss Australia. I thought it was a bit cute to name my fear. When I was a kid I used to hate going to the toilets because of the spiders (the red backs and the daddy long legs and the occasional huntsman), but that’s nothing to the fear that a rat might jump out with a “taadaah!” and bite your bum.
Sydney and I have an arrangement. I knock on the toilet lid before I use it to give him fair warning and if he’s lurking in there he will nick off down the drain for a while. It’s happened twice.
But the last few days there has been no sign of him, and I wonder where he has gone. Sydney could be anywhere….
If my housemates still read this they are going to murder me. Possibly with the bottle of bleach in my ensuite.