The mouse business began last month when a bad aroma began to annoy me. I nervously checked the compost crock and the garbage can and even peeked in the oven to see if a piece of meat had been left to die there.
My nose finally led me under the sink to a forgotten mouse trap.
Sure enough, there was a little furry creature ripening under the hot water pipe. Gag me.
The snare and its little feast of long dried up peanut butter had been prepared several month previous; set by WR in response to my reminders (nagging) that we needed to be prepared for the winter mouse invasion. I'd left the primed trap alone, acknowledging each time I noticed it with careful avoidance.
After our catch, we were once again aware that the field mice had found shelter under the house. And, that at least one had squeezed through the small opening around the kitchen pipes into the warm cabinet under the sink.
WR set another trap with fresh peanut butter.
Now I am paranoid.
I keep hearing things: Paper rustling? Little claws clicking? Something jumping from the garbage can?
"Did you hear that dear?" I demand his affirmation even though I put a question mark on it here.
"I didn't hear anything," says he and goes on about his business.
(He does have some hearing loss so I give him the benefit of the doubt.)
That dialogue has repeated many times in the evenings over the past few weeks, followed by me running into the kitchen.
Garbage can. Check.
Bottom drawer. Check.
Under stove. Check.
"I know you're there, you little rat!" I yell into the kitchen sink.
Last night was the final straw.
WR hit the hay and I stayed up to finish some computer work. (Shush. Blogging is so my computer work.)
I was just about ready to power down when I heard it.
Somewhere near the computer.
I hopped up and checked behind the chair and the couch. I looked under the coffee table. I peered into my empty shoes.
"This is driving me craaaaaaaaaaazy." I screamed, but only in my head. Truth is I was a tad bit freaked!
I couldn't take it anymore and headed down the hallway to the bedroom. In there, I could guarantee myself that I wouldn't be hearing things.
Nope. Can't hear anything over WR's snore.
Chance: Getting My Shots
18 hours ago