What freaks writers, is good.

I’m living in a classic older building in Boston, the kind with spiral staircases and spooky halls, and a room in the basement (off the laundry, off the mailboxes) where everyone leaves their trash and recycling. Which is what I did this afternoon.

So, picture this:

Me, shoving a pizza box into a bin.

Me, looking down as a rat runs past.

Me, screaming my head off.

I love animals. I really love animals. And I’m typically a calm, collected, gal. But seeing that black blur streak past my foot and scu...