Schoolmarm and Slugs

Becoming a teacher is pretty exciting.  It means a lot of new things.  Including a new place to live. 
However, obtaining a place to live is not as easy as I once so daftly assumed.   It all began with a dream come true - I had one of the sweetest housing deals that ever was.  It was essentially the post grad’s dream as far as price went and I was ecstatic to move in.
Operation Schoolmarm was just beginning.
And, truth be told, it was literally the perfect western schoolmarm tale.  There I was in my petticoat and shawl driving my horse and buggy out into the wild, wild west.  It was a bleak night and the winds began to pick up.  I wrapped my little old lady shawl closer around my shoulders for warmth.  Yet the night was relentless, the sky opened up and it began to pour.
At long last I arrived at my new abode and a flickering sense of excitement and “home” filled my heart.  Here I was.  Ready to brave the west, meet some cowboy, and teach a bunch of kiddos.  It was going to be a good life, and it all started here, at this adorable little house.
The End
Gosh, if only.  More like and then at this cute little house all hell broke loose. 
My Home Sweet Home turned out to be  infested with dead bugs of all shapes scattered throughout the house.  Mmm, apparently there had been a flea infestation.
I took a deep breath, determined to be optimistic.  It could be worse right?  I began to look around the house and found numerous oddities that were, well more problematic than odd, but let’s not end there, as I made my way back to the kitchen, feeling a bit worn and bummed and very, very not at home, I saw it. One huge, slimy, black slug crawling out of the corner of the kitchen floor.  And then another, and another, and oh for the love of all things good, the slugs just kept coming. Massive, thick, slimy, inky black slugs. Some of them were almost six inches long. 
Suddenly, my western drama had morphed into a B-rate 50s horror film, “Attack of the Slugs.” Mercy, they were even slithering down the windows! Ugghghhghhghguuhghguuhhguguguguhghguuhh.
However, like anyone who had just had their pride hurt at the thought of their dreams falling apart, I was, once again determined not to lose hope.  I found some salt and dumped it over one of them.  The gross creature writhed in agony and began to shrivel up.  One down and lord knows how many to go. 
I took a deep breath resisting the urge to puke and the urge to simply cry, when I noticed that the slug I had just suffocated actually began fighting back.  Slug verses salt was literally happening right before my eyes, and I watched that nasty fat blob fight tirelessly work to regain its form.  What the actual hell. I just watched a shrug shrivel up like a prune and then transform back into its odious, slick, slimy self.    I dumped more salt on it. It wasn’t working.  Oh my word. This was a nightmare.
And so on second thought...
I jumped right back in my horse and buggy and got the heck out of there. And it's a good thing I did because apparently the fleas came back to life too. 
Ew.
I think I may have given up entirely if I hadn't run into one of the kids I got to tutor as a student teacher the next day. 
Time to try again at this whole housing thing.
Operation  Schoolmarm is only just beginning. ;)
Over and Out!