July 9, 2010


Things were touch and go for a while there, my friends. It wasn't pretty.

On Wednesday a well-intentioned gentleman suggested that I could take the terror alert in my house down from red to, perhaps, yellow. Since I like him so much I gave his advice some careful consideration. It was true. It had been a week and nothing had happened. There were traps, but nobody took the bait. Maybe my mouse had been a poor lost mouse who stumbled into my pantry and ate my popcorn on accident. Maybe he knew he wasn't meant to be indoors. Maybe he could tell that my house was hostile towards rodents of all types, but that I was a nice girl and he really didn't want to cause me any stress.

So, Wednesday evening I crawled into bed barely thinking of my little rodent issue, blissfully believing that perhaps it had resolved itself. I slept soundly. I wasn't worried. Thursday morning started like any other morning. Alarm. Snooze. Alarm. WC. And then things got interesting. I walked boldly into my kitchen and there it was. The trap. The trap that had been at the VERY BACK of the pantry was now sticking out from under the pantry door. NOT A GOOD SIGN. I trepidatiously opened the pantry door and...nothing. A relocated mouse trap with no mouse. The details get a little fuzzy at this point, but I do remember slamming the pantry door shut, getting ready for work as quickly as possible and getting the heck out of dodge (a.k.a. my apartment).

At work things went from bad to worse. No less than two people informed me that I must have a rat. A RAT. Apparently when your traps move without catching something this indicates that whatever you're trying to catch it too big for the trap. GROSS. I went from worried to HORRIFIED. Absolutely horrified.

The aforementioned gentleman spent the afternoon reminding me that I probably don't have a rat. I hadn't heard it (rats are apparently loud) and I had seen no signs of him (they are also supposedly out to destroy). And the little traps were the glue kind because I hadn't been able to make the wooden ones set without loosing a finger. And they had been out for a week - maybe the glue wasn't so sticky anymore. Maybe. Still - horrified. So, I traded my fella dinner for his trap setting abilities. No messing around this time. Wooden traps. Peanut Butter. Death for the rodents.

We set one trap. We ate dinner. We drank wine. We put in a movie. And then.....SNAP. One hour later the mystery was solved. Dead mouse. Mouse brains are gross by the way.

Humans - 1, Mice - 0.

I've never been so relieved to have mice...and a boyfriend.

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