Thursday, September 1, 2011

"The" mouse (because there's only one, right? Right? RIGHT?!?)

On Tuesday night, I was sitting on the couch when a mouse ran alongside the kitchen floor.  I screamed bloody murder and the entire family came running, assuming there was an emergency.  I was on top of the back of the couch by then, shaking.  If there were chandeliers, I'd have been hanging from them.

 I HATE RODENTS.  

If it was a venomous snake, no problem.  But I have an unnatural fear of rodents as if THEY are venomous.  My family all laughed at me as I ran upstairs, swearing to never step foot downstairs again.  I told my husband I'd start to pee in a bucket and jump out the 2nd story window to go to work if I had to until he caught THE mouse.  So he set some traps and at about 10pm, he heard a SNAP behind the fridge.  Sure enough, there was a dead mouse in the trap.  Yay!!!!  My hero!!!!  I assumed  it was safe to venture back downstairs to the main floor.  

The next day I spent every penny I had at tad at the grocery store.  I came home, put it all away and started a nice dinner with all the trimmings.  I was going to have Persian rice with dinner as well.  But when I picked up the burlap sack, I discovered "the" mouse had chewed holes in it and so I had to throw away 10lbs of rice.  GREAT.  

Last night, I was having trouble falling asleep again and was watching T.V. downstairs at about 2am.   Out of the corner of my eye, I saw ANOTHER mouse run behind the fridge & stove.  I screamed, frozen in fear.  No one came to save me this time, they were all sleeping.  I jumped like a gazelle to the stairs and went back upstairs thinking I'd be safe up there and how I'm never stepping foot downstairs again.

Then this morning, Mike (who's bedroom is next to ours on the 2nd floor) told me he had trouble sleeping last night.  He said he kept hearing a loud scratching noise.  He opened his closet door and said the scratching was coming from the ceiling of his closet, near the light.


My daughter said, 
"Don't you know Mom, for every one mouse you see, 
there's THREE mice you don't see?"

I tried to block out what she was saying.
I was thinking, NO, NO, NO.  There's only one mouse.
He's in the kitchen.  There are no mice upstairs. That's impossible.

But as reality set in, and I realized that there were multiple mice,
possible even upstairs, I felt like that scene from that Star Trek movie 
with the Borg, when Captain Picard says,  "They've adapted."

And, NATURALLY (for me), 
I was thinking I'll be moving into my car now.  

This morning, as I was leaving for work, I put 1 foot in the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and ran towards the door, slipping and hurting myself because of my irrational fear of mice.
After I was out of the house, I brushed myself off and laughed at myself.  I opened up the water and took a drink, it was warm.  That's odd.  I assumed it didn't have enough time in the fridge to get cold yet.  So I imagined it was a nice cold drink as I drank my warm water.

Then this afternoon, as I was walking home from work,  I was thinking of the ice cold water and other drinks that awaited me.  I was also thinking of the many options I thought I had for lunch and dinner.   The temperature is about 95 in Chicago today, about 105 in the school bus that I drive.   But when I got home and opened the fridge, all of the food was warm.  The brand new gallon of milk had already started to curl.  I looked behind the fridge, wires had been chewed.  My fridge was broken.
At that moment, something inside of me snapped
because I'm not scared of the mice anymore.

I walked to the store and bought more traps and put them in every room in the house.  I bought snap traps and glue traps.  I bought the pellets that they eat and die.  I put some peanut butter on them and I am waiting with war paint on (in my imagination).
I bleached every inch of my kitchen and called the landlord to come look at my fridge.  He said he can't come by until this weekend.  Great.  

I BLAME THE MICE.
MY FEAR HAS TURNED TO ANGER.
THIS IS WAR.

Stories of dead mice hopefully will follow this post in the very near future......





2 comments:

  1. Ha!..Bev I once had a mouse that hid 55 bucks in my non-working dryer..Well it was a pack rat. I paid the bill with that 55 bucks!..Love your writing! Jill

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  2. Thanks for reading Jill, XOXOXO.

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