Slug Guts

We've been moved into and living in Dallas' (he has to keep reminding me that it's not HIS, it's OURS), I mean, our house since Sunday night. I know this must seem like the longest, most dragged out move in history... and quite frankly, I feel that way too! But every time we'd take a load, we'd remember something else we'd need to take to storage, or take from storage to the other house, or pick up something at Lowes, or grab more boxes... So even though we've been in the house since Sunday, neither of us have gotten to sleep before midnight or 1:00 since last Friday night. Also factor in, if you will, the heat, humidity, mosquitos and bruises. We're tired.

Finally, FINALLY, we removed the last bit of paraphernalia from my ex-house last night and all that was left was giving it a final scrub. Dallas was still working on some stuff outside when I started cleaning in the kitchen. There was a weird spot on the floor that I swiffered and scrubbed and sponged and finally took to chipping off with my thumbnail. Gross, yes, but whatever. I was singularily focused and just wanted to get to bed. I get back to work until I hear this from outside the door:

"Ew. A slug."

I take a peek outside at the slug. Then look back to the spot I'd just cleaned.

Huh.

It would appear that during the hauling of boxes, one of us stepped on a slug, transferred the carcass to the kitchen floor where it was then left to dry like cement to my floor.

And I just chipped it off with my fingernail. Ew, a slug, indeed.

However, closing went off without a hitch this morning and I just picked up my check so I suppose getting a little bit of slug guts under my nail was still worth it.