A mouse in the house
I am freaking out.
I was peacefully reading blogs in the living room. I was feeling very productive, since I worked on my novel, read the chapters from the other girls in my writing group and wrote down comments, read part of a book, read everybody's blog, and ate lunch (all before D woke up. He's on a very odd schedule, 5:30 am to 12:45 pm, but we'll get to that later.)
D came out cheerfully to the living room and said, "We might have a mouse in the house."
"You're kidding me," I said. "A real, physical mouse?" (People say moronic things in times of stress.)
"Mm-hm," he said, still smiling placidly. "I was working out here last night and I saw a little mouse go vroom!"
I started to freak out. "D, we need to get that mouse out of here."
"Well, my sister had a mouse in her house, they came and killed it, and now she feels bad," he said.
"WE NEED TO GET IT GONE!" (Goodbye, grammar.)
"We'll get it gone. We'll go to the PETA site and find a humane way to do it."
Translation: it will never get done. I went to the site and found nothing. Granted, I didn't look very hard.
I know I am being a massive hypocrite. I'm a vegetarian yogini, yet I want this mouse gone. Now.
Before I moved in with and subsequently married D, I lived in a dump. Well, it was expensive Manhattan real estate, but a dump nonetheless. It was mouse central. One of my roommates, P, left out a trap with cheese on it. It remained untouched. He grew up in a farmhouse and said, "One day you will wake up with a mouse on your face, and you will scream." (He was given to campy drama.)
Finally we called the exterminators. It was a depressing sight, seeing the little mousie dead on the floor, like the victim of a gang hit. But I can't deal with little creatures scurrying around, shooting in and out of my field of vision, while I cook. I don't want them on my face.
I don't.
I was peacefully reading blogs in the living room. I was feeling very productive, since I worked on my novel, read the chapters from the other girls in my writing group and wrote down comments, read part of a book, read everybody's blog, and ate lunch (all before D woke up. He's on a very odd schedule, 5:30 am to 12:45 pm, but we'll get to that later.)
D came out cheerfully to the living room and said, "We might have a mouse in the house."
"You're kidding me," I said. "A real, physical mouse?" (People say moronic things in times of stress.)
"Mm-hm," he said, still smiling placidly. "I was working out here last night and I saw a little mouse go vroom!"
I started to freak out. "D, we need to get that mouse out of here."
"Well, my sister had a mouse in her house, they came and killed it, and now she feels bad," he said.
"WE NEED TO GET IT GONE!" (Goodbye, grammar.)
"We'll get it gone. We'll go to the PETA site and find a humane way to do it."
Translation: it will never get done. I went to the site and found nothing. Granted, I didn't look very hard.
I know I am being a massive hypocrite. I'm a vegetarian yogini, yet I want this mouse gone. Now.
Before I moved in with and subsequently married D, I lived in a dump. Well, it was expensive Manhattan real estate, but a dump nonetheless. It was mouse central. One of my roommates, P, left out a trap with cheese on it. It remained untouched. He grew up in a farmhouse and said, "One day you will wake up with a mouse on your face, and you will scream." (He was given to campy drama.)
Finally we called the exterminators. It was a depressing sight, seeing the little mousie dead on the floor, like the victim of a gang hit. But I can't deal with little creatures scurrying around, shooting in and out of my field of vision, while I cook. I don't want them on my face.
I don't.
Comments
However, I did buy this little device that plugs in and supposedly sends out a signal to mice that makes it so they can't eat, and they eventually have to leave so they can live. I picked it up at Walgreens. You might try something like that first.
I didn't sleep a wink.
The mouse must be humanely removed from the premises!
I plugged in the electronic devices. The large one is quite noisy! Apparently some mice are hardy and it doesn't affect them. But for most, it messes up their nervous systems, and they run out of your apartment!
So we hired an exterminator and they put out traps. They found one dead rat in the air conditioner ducts. Hopefully the others went to someone else's house.