After a week of work travels, I returned home. Glorious home. I was breaking out in a full smile walking through the MSP airport. My current apartment is now empty- both roommates gone- so I returned to an experiment of living alone.
Or so I thought.
Soon I had a sneaking suspicion that I was not alone.
It was a vague movement out of the corner of my eye. Slight sounds filtering through the air.
Sure enough, yesterday morning Mr. Mousey was poppin' his head out to say hello. Brave and unafraid of daylight, he hid behind the stove and would race out when I had been quiet for awhile. I resolved to buy some more clap traps. Cruel, yes, but effective. I want to live ALONE, you see, not with a guest.
Yesterday Kelly came over for dinner. I showed her my 2-sticky trap, 2-clap trap set-up, and she approved. I was set for my mission of destruction.
As we munched on homemade kettle corn, she noticed movement- a brown blurb shimmying up the shelf. Suddenly the mouse was on the counter, then leaping in the bread basket. The bread basket! Not the bread basket! We went over, unsure what to do. I was freaking out, cussing and cursing at the mouse. Kelly was calm. I ran down the back stairs- we could carry the basket out side and release it! I opened the door, and on my way back up, she said "It is finished!" the mouse had invisibly escaped the bread basket and ended up in a trap. Wowza!
After a short struggle, Mr. Mousey was bagged and disposed of. It felt good!
We cleaned out that bread basket- he had been thriving on some salmon jerky! Two sticks were nibbled on. I guess I would eat salmon over moldy bread, too. (I just returned from a week way, to remind you. Moldy bread is not normal. Moldy cheese on the other hand, but I digress). After that accomplishment, I still decided to leave the other traps out just to be sure. But was really looking forward to the living alone experiment.
Except, I still wasn't alone.
Last night I heard a quiet chirping, like a mouse, but couldn't locate it. I went to bed. This morning, sticky trap #1 by the stove had accomplished its mission. Mrs. Mousey was caught by her back legs and wailing. I felt terrible. I freaked out a little less. I sang "Jesus lover of my soul" and got the Mrs. in a ziploc. (She went outside, too, though for now she is waiting to meet the tire of my car. I don't want her to struggle for days. Maybe the sticky traps are even crueler, as they prolong the end.) When I felt really mean, I called my mom, and she reminded me that mice don't have a right to live with me. I do have the right to live alone.
As I climbed back up the stairs, I felt sad but strong and ready to persevere on my mice killing mission. At the top of the stair I was met by yet another furry beast, this one scrambling into a hole in the wall! A tally of three mice, and counting! HOW MANY KIDS DO YOU HAVE? I quickly found the steel wool that had been purchased for this occasion, and stuffed the crack. I went to the other side (ahem, the kitchen side, where I live!) and tried to stuff that space, too.
I shake my head as I think of the millions of mice babies currently inhabiting my house, just waiting for me to leave. I found another clap trap, so hopefully Sticky #1 and Clappy #3 will do their work in the back hall. Clap #2 and Decon are inside waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Like me.
Waiting to be free of unwanted guests.
Until next time, loyal reader, I wish you a pest-free week.
