Grr. Mice. We’ve had some episodes with mice lately, most likely because our backyard used to look like this:
But now it looks like this:
We’re happy to have the weeds gone, but apparently a few mice who had their home destroyed aren’t. Or, who knows. Maybe the mice are happier inside our cozy house.
Incident 1 happened on Sunday, when we had the big group of people over for dinner (don’t you just love mice incidents during your dinner parties)? One of our guests pointed out the furry intruder as it ran into our bedroom. Luckily we got the problem taken care of that night (and don’t worry; at least the mouse died full; he ate the peanut butter and cheese off of three traps before we got him).
We thought that was the end of it, until I was at home yesterday, just reading while Carson was down for a nap, when I heard something rustling in what sounded like the bathroom. At first I was scared that someone was actually inside the house; it was kind of a loud noise, and I had forgotten the mouse traps. But then I remembered. I figured that’s what it had to be: a mouse caught on the glue trap we had left in the bathroom. (Yes, a glue trap. Which have proven to be effective, but not our favorite, because they don’t actually kill the mouse and it’s left struggling and rustling in the next room, scaring you.) I called Josh, let him know, vented some of my fear, and mustered up the courage to at least go by and shut the bathroom door.
But when I went to shut the door I saw…(dramatic music here) the empty trap lying in the middle of the bathroom floor! Eek! The mouse had escaped! It totally could have been something from a horror movie (well, if the mouse were…like…ten times bigger and actually posed a real threat). Still, scary. I yelped and ran into Carson’s room, where we hid out until Josh came home shortly thereafter. But…no mouse.
So I made do with the downstairs bathroom until I eventually got over my fear, after Josh put out more traps. But every time we checked and there was nothing, I got so dejected.
I had just kind of forgotten about the mouse and regained enough courage to walk around the house again when today I walked into the kitchen for a snack and HORRORS: it was running on the counter! Ick! Ick ick ick. Then it hid in some crevice behind the dishwasher and I hid, once again, in Carson’s room, where we stayed safe and scared. Until I talked to my mom, the bravest, most go-getter person ever, and she gave me a pep talk into protecting my house, my domain, my food, my kitchen. I mustered up my courage, set another trap right by the dishwasher, and hid again until Josh came home. :)
That was all this afternoon. Now, after an excellent date night and dinner out, we’re home and all of our traps have yet to catch that darn mouse. :( Now I’m wondering how long I can go without using the upstairs bathroom or kitchen… Ick. Mice. This has definitely been one of the drawbacks to living in a fifty-plus-year-old house.
