Stupid Mouse

My life is on hold. A couple of weeks ago I left my laundry room door open and Bob flipped out. Then, THEN he told me that he saw something scatter in there when he went in the other day. Okay, I could have happened upon this thing without any warning and I cannot begin to explain the series of events that would follow something like that. I believe there are some references in the Book of Revelations.

So from that point on, I knocked on the door before entering. I can't get anyone in my house to check and see if the bathroom is occupied, or if I'm dressed before entering a room, but for the mouse? We knock. Far be it for us to be rude and interrupt a nice meal. Bob put out glue traps. For about 3 days the traps were empty and we thought maybe it had been a spider. I'm not going to lie, it looked like something prehistoric to me, but I once thought a rat the size of my fist was the size of a jackrabbit so there you go.

Saturday morning, at 6am, Bob woke me up saying "I got it!". I knew immediately of course because my entire life had been focused on the demise of this rodent. He took the thing, put it in the trash and stuck it in the polycart. We figured with the heat and lack of air in there, it would suffocate for sure.

Bob came home that afternoon, and went to check and the sonofabitch was loose from the trap. I guess the heat melted the glue. I don't know. But I do know that a blade of grass hit my ankle and I screamed like a banshee causing every dog in the neighborhod to go on high alert. I also may have wet myself but I'm not sure. We stood in the yard looking at each other, wondering what to do about this. I wanted it gone, out of the damn neighborhood. My mom said to throw it over the fence. Again, I don't think so. I don't want that thing running back to the mouse bar telling all it's friends that it knows of a good place to get a bite to eat, and if you get caught, the old lady lets you go. I'll have every mouse in town up in here.

So yesterday morning I asked Bob to please get me something out of the laundry room. He laughed at me, said "the mouse is gone" and I told him that you never know, I was still a little jumpy. He opened the door, shut the door, and said "oops". Yeah, there was another one stuck on a damn trap. Well you know what this means. There's a nest! There is a nest of mice in MY laundry room. I swear if I could afford it I would leave this rodent hotel and check into the new LaQuinta. My mother in law offered to let me stay with her but hell, she's got a mouse too. And her mouse comes out to watch The View and drink coffee with her every damn morning!

So, I'm not proud to say that Bob took the mouse and put it in a bag and ran over it with the car. We're sending out a message to the mouse community that they are not welcome here. I can just see somebody coming to look at the house, fall in love with the kitchen cabinets and open the damn laundry room door to see some sort of mouse kegger going down in the dog food bin.

I realize that to some people, a mouse problem is minor. But for me, this is catastrophic. This is like being thrown into the polar bear cage at the zoo with a steak tied around my waist. This is baaaaad. This is so very baaaaad. I am terrified of mice, and I don't care if they are afraid of me because they can run and hide. I can't hide. Where the hell am I going to hide? I can't crush my bones and run under a baseboard. I'm lucky if I can hide in a closet. Which I would not do around here because it's dark and MICE LOVE THE DARK. I am afraid to reach into the cabinets. I sent my 4 yr old to get toilet paper out from under the bathroom sink because I was afraid to. I flip out and lose my mind if the back door is open. I can't handle a mouse.

So what do we do? We have a rat terrier, but she's afraid of the dark and she's so spoiled that unless it had a nice Pesto sauce on it she's not touching it. I would get a cat, but I hate cats. The cat would have to live in that room because I don't want it running around my house or God forbid dropping a dead mouse on my lap. Oh my Lord I just now thought of that one. Screw the cat idea. What kind of traps do we get? Humane ones? No I want them gone. The glue? That's just nasty (I mistook a piece of paper for a mouse foot this morning. I made my friend Andy get my vaccum out for me). I like the idea of that stuff that they eat and die and then turn to dust with no smell. I don't want to happen upon any skeletons or a family in there if we ever sell this damn house (don't get me started) and move everything out of there. I'm not a mean person, I have compassion, I don't want them to be scared. If I was sending them back a little fear would be ok because if it went back with a limp and told the other mice that I'm a psycho then they would all stay away.

And I realize that the chances of there being a little burger joint for mice is not likely. But I've seen enough Disney movies to feel like it's not wise to rule it out 100%.

So for now, we will continue to knock on the door before we go in. Or Bob will because I'm never stepping foot in there again. When I think of all the rummaging I did before I knew about this, and all the times that one could have scuttered over my hand I just have little heart attacks. Hopefully the varmint man will come and rid us of this curse. Because nothing says "buy my house" like the Rid o' Rat truck parked out front.