the rats were a no-show

Memorial Day weekend, a time when a Baltimorean's fancy turns to crabs.

For the official kickoff to summer, an epic birthday crab feast for one of my roommates was in the works. At our house, we frequently enjoy evenings outside on our deck, but we rarely venture down to the patio area, which is basically a jungle ruled by the rats. They stick to their territory, and we to ours. The rules are simple.

However, in order to have a decent crab feast with room to swing a mallet, the jungle needed to be tamed, and the rats challenged. Now don't get me wrong; we're not messy people. We have a tightly-fitting trash can lid and we don't leave any junk out for the rats. However, we do share a fence with a notorious group of male Hopkins students who choose to carpet their backyard with empty-ish cans of Keystone Light. They also sometimes adorn it with large bags of trash from what I must assume, judging by the sounds of Cali Swag District and spontaneous cheers through the walls, are killer parties.

Our own backyard is a lovely brick patio with a gorgeous dogwood tree and planters full of overgrown shrubbery lining the fence. Therein lies the problem. After feasting next door, the weary rats seek a place of comfort, a place to gather with their kind. Our planter boxes offer the space in which to create a vast network of underground tunnels, perfect for sleeping off a Keystone Light-induced stupor or planning future capers in peace. Basically, our two houses together form a veritable bed and breakfast for the rabbit-sized rodents.

The job of reclaiming our own backyard had not been tackled in the 2 years we've lived here, but armed with a borrowed pair of shears, a pushbroom, and my trusty set of Ikea tools, I was ready to take on the challenge. I'm sure it's just as overwhelming to read about as it was to do, so I've broken it down into a few manageable episodes.

round 1: shrubbery

There's something satisfying about hacking away at plants without regard for technique or finished product. So that's what I did. I kept going until the yard looked like a haircut gone horribly wrong. Then I knew I had succeeded. It may look ridiculous, but at least now we no longer have to fight the branches for space.

Anna: 1, backyard: 0

before...

...and after

round 2: lion fountain

Once the brush was cleared, it became apparent that we had a lion fountain in the corner. Huh. How awesome would it be to have a lion elegantly spitting water in the corner during our crab feast? Wicked awesome, that's how.

So, I set about to figure out how to hook up the fountain to the electrical outlet. After tipping the whole thing over and taking it apart, I determined there was no pump at all. Maybe it functioned without electricity, using gravity to power a siphon. Well, I only know of one way to start a siphon. I'll spare you the details, but it does involve me getting up close and personal with the lion. Shudder. I hope no one was watching from any nearby balconies.

In the end, I realized there was no way to make the fountain work, as we were probably just missing the pump altogether. That was a waste of an hour.

Anna: 1, backyard: 1

round 3: lighting

You can't pick a crab in the dark, so the next task was adding some lighting. Apparently it requires 12 steps and a pair of pliers to change each light bulb in our backyard. I am not even including the step of 'buy new light bulbs.' There were 5 bulbs total, and each one was surrounded by some sort of locked cage, as if light bulb theft were a huge problem in our neighborhood.

In conclusion, eating in the dark is romantic and underrated. But seriously, I changed them all.

Anna: 2, backyard:1

the final score

At last I emerged victorious. The patio was swept and well-lit, the bushes had been relegated to their spots along the fence, the lion sat motionless yet regally in the corner, and the rats were probably lying in wait, ready to swipe the carefully-picked crab meat right off of the classifieds, seagull style.

The feast was a success, and our patio is finally usable for what is sure to be the best post-apocalyptic summer ever. I wouldn't have been able to do it without some crustacean motivation.