Monday, December 5, 2011

The Christmas Mouse? No, thank you!

Yesterday my husband and I planned on having a totally relaxing day of watching TV and lounging on the sofa.  He had worked hard all week and was looking forward to watching the Vikings (yeah, he must like torture) and then some movies. I had stayed up until 4:30 am Thursday morning, working on some guest blogs and interviews that were due.  I got 3 hours sleep. The life of an indie writer/publisher.

Then I opened the silverware drawer and saw them.  Little "gifts" from what could only be a visiting Christmas mouse!  Oh, no!  Yuck!  Is there anything better at making you feel sick than seeing mouse droppings in your kitchen drawers or cupboards?  I opened the drawer next to it.  More gifts!
ALL of a sudden, the afternoon of pleasant idleness had evaporated.  Now we were facing the daunting task of removing every item from every cupboard, disinfecting the items and the drawers/cupboards, and setting peanut butter traps.  Do you have any idea just how much "stuff" one has for entertaining, etc after decades of adult life???

That was not all.  Once everything was cleaned, it could not be put back.  No.  Because the mouse (mice?) would be back.  So, we needed to put those items all over the house, keeping the drawers and cupboards bare except for the traps.  Sigh.

The good news?  All of our cupboards got cleaned.  Even better, only 2 drawers and 2 cupboards had any evidence at all of the visitor(s).  Thank God!  That meant he/she had only recently invaded us.  That also meant we only had the items from those 4 places to keep out while we plant our stealth killing devices.

I feel bad for them.  I really do.  Honestly, mice are quite cute.  I understand that they are looking for warmth and food, which all living things are entitled to.  However, they carry a lot of diseases!  So, cute or not, they are never welcome in our home.  Still, I can't set the traps.  That is Dave's job.  He will carry the blood of those murders on his hands, not me.  At least that is what I tell myself. 

Poor Christmas mouse.  He picked a bad home to invade.  No piece of cheese set on a plate for him on the eve of Christmas in this home.  Instead, he will have his neck snapped for pooping on our knives and forks. 

Ho ho ho.  Merry Christmas, Mr. Mouse.  :(

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