Tuesday, July 6, 2010

My House IS NOT Filthy Despite What This Post May Imply

There is a mouse in my house.

I say mouse like I know it's only one. But saying mice? That just gives me the creeps. I have barely gotten over the snake being in my closet last summer and now there is a mouse in my house. One mouse.

I hate getting up in the middle of the night to pee, which happens once or twice and I'm not even pregnant. But these critters have ruined me. I have to jump over the floor by my closet door to avoid the potential snake ghost, and now I have to listen for the mouse nomming away on the food in my pantry.

Yeah. One second there little bugger. That's Hubs' food. That's the boys' food. Dude that's MY FOOD.

We threw away three large yard trash bags of food, plus two boxes yesterday. Food we found teeth marks on, food we weren't so sure about since it was open and might have been breathed on by the mouse, and food that well, had expired. (Expired food in my pantry? It's genetic. My mom tried to poison Hubs when we'd only been dating a few months. Like she offered him honey mustard for his ham sandwich and it was green. GREEN. And it was 10 years old. That was 10 years ago. We still check the dates on anything coming out of her fridge and shelves now.) It was a lot of food.

I spent about five hours going through the food in our pantry, throwing it away, cleaning and reorganizing. How'd you spend your holiday? The entire time I had two thoughts.

  1. Why did we re-home our cats last fall?

  2. There are no cats in America and the streets are filled with cheeeeeeese.

Later I had a couple more thoughts.

  1. Oh my cake mixes! Oh my brownies!

  2. Damn it this mouse is forcing me to purge all the things I shouldn't have in my pantry anyways because I eat too much, when I'm stressed and anxious and it's totally not healthy, and I need to get over the emotional roller coaster I'm on right now and kick this habit to the curb along with the crappy-ass memories of people who attended my wedding but shouldn't have because they were shitty (former) friends who continuously bring me down by the sheer fact that they exist on this planet.

  3. breathe in, breathe out, breath in, breath out

This morning I drove to my friendly neighborhood Target to buy storage containers for my cereal and the boys' snacks which I have to restock up on tomorrow since we threw most of them away.

I really hate this mouse. Last night I had giggly thoughts of it scampering over to my pantry and staring up at the shelves in utter despair, its heart breaking in to a million tinier pieces as it realized it'd have to find another place to live. That it's cozy nest under the cupboard that also houses my pots and pans wouldn't be the best place on the earth to hunker down and breed in. Shudder.

Consequently I don't mind the pots and pans banging about when I put them away now. I delight in waking that mouse from it's peaceful, food-induced slumber with ear crushing clanging. Because it ate my food. It lives in MY house. And I didn't marry it nor did I birth it. It doesn't pay rent either. I have limits. I say this like I cook and bake every day and need to be using my pots and pans often. This is definitely not true but should be reconsidered as a viable rodent deterrent solution.

We did glean some useful knowledge about this mouse though while cleaning up its mess. It likes cereal bars and teddy grahams the best. So we use some of the nibbled on leftovers in the traps we have out. LIVE traps people. I haven't reached the point of really wanting to kill it. I'm not cold. Yet. But the funny (not-so-much) thing? It managed to get some of the food on the ramp of the trap last night. Without actually getting caught in the trap.

If that mouse turns out to be smarter than me? I'm going to write a letter to my alma mater to ask for a refund.