Showing posts with label rodentia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rodentia. Show all posts
Friday, October 31, 2008
Ding, Dong...
...the mouse is dead! The exterminator finally came yesterday and laid traps out around our living room. Right as I was heading out the door for work this morning he came back to see if we caught anything--and sure enough, we did! I was too grossed out to even look at it--so I just left. Unfortunately, not before I made several disgusted facial expressions that had the exterminator laughing at me. Ugggghh! So gross! He left a few more traps, just in case there's more--I can't even bare the thought! I'm still trying to feel safe again in our apartment, and I confess that I still tip toe around. I'm hoping that we'll recover from this emotional trauma soon, because I'd rather not be living in a house with mice--and I really don't want to write anything else about them. Oh, and Julianne--I can still remember the smell of that dead mouse that was in your door. It wasn't a pretty one. :) We couldn't figure out where it was coming from. Good memories of 301. No really, the rest were all good!
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Scamper, scamper little mouse
Whenever I sit at the computer, my feet are up. I don't know why, but I hate having my feet on the ground when I'm on the computer. This is true for as far back as I remember--in junior high, writing papers--my feet were always up on the desk. It's not that easy to do--go ahead, try typing with your feet up. For this same reason, I hate using computers in public places, because well--you can't exactly keep your feet on the desk, can you?!? Well, this weekend, I learned WHY I will continue this very strange habit of mine.
Characters: Alyse (sick with a fever and sore throat--thanks a lot flu shot, a lot of good that did me!) and Carlos (who was working tirelessly to reformat our computer)
Setting: 11:30 at night on Friday, October 24th, at home in the "living room/kitchen/office/music room/dining room." I call it the living room.
"The Kick-off" (as we call it at school--can you tell I've been teaching story grammar elements??):
All I remember is Carlos yelling and leaping out of the computer chair. I turn around to see a very small mouse--yes mouse--running across our living room. Of course, I start screaming--"a mouse! A mouse!!!!." Meanwhile, Carlos is still yelling while flapping his arms wildly in the air. Next thing I know, Carlos runs out the front door, leaving it wide open. "GREAT!" I think to myself. My knight in shining armor has left me alone to fight this tiny foe. Exasperated, wondering where my beloved has gone, watching like a hawk for the small creature to re-appear from underneath the baseboard heater, wondering if I'm just delirious from the fever, and still trying to figure out WHAT Carlos is doing--suddenly he reappears with a stack of phone books and the word "determination" practically written out across his forehead. My hero! "Where is it?" he boomed. I could only point to the general location (of course, I was across the room, as far away as possible from the tiny beast). Carlos charged for the corner, and at this point, I lost it. I was laughing so hard, and I couldn't stop. "It touched my foot, it was on my foot!" Carlos kept saying, almost like a broken record, hoping for sympathy from his wife, who was still laughing. In my mind, it was almost as if I was a beehive again at girls' camp--watching, and laughing as the girls in my ward shrieked with horror as a tiny mouse ran across the beams above our bunk beds in our "cabin." But THIS was different. This was not girls' camp. This is my house. This is where I live! We (and by we, I mean Carlos) tore our "living room" apart--looking everywhere for this unwelcome rodent. I searched high and low throughout all of our other rooms, but to no avail! Score:
Mouse 1
Us 0
The next few hours were spent cleaning the apartment--scrubbing counters, and sinks, sweeping and mopping floors, putting away any hint of food--which is now tucked "safely" away either in the fridge or up high in closed cabinets, taking out all garbage, and anything else my poor brain could think of. All the while, I can't help but wonder--is my house THAT gross? How could a rodent be living in here???? I didn't think I was that bad of a housekeeper! Carlos washed his foot, thoroughly--so we shouldn't die from any diseases that may have been spread from the mouse's tiny feet in that brief instant. We immediately phoned both Carlos' mom and my sister--who were thankfully both awake. Words of comfort, empathy, and wisdom were shared. They reassured me that even the most careful of people can get mice in their houses--and it wasn't my fault. Memories were shared--previous experiences of mice in apartments, "back in the days when...," also the times we convinced my mom to let us get a hamster, and the time the pet store clerk almost convinced my mom to buy a pet rat (stories for another day!). All reasons why our poor children will never have pets. But, I digress.
Conclusion: As of now, there is no conclusion. This mysterious mouse has continued to evade us. He has not shown his tiny little tail again in our small 500 sq. ft. apartment. There really aren't that many places to hide in here--trust me. I lull myself into a false sense of security, thinking that our "visitor" is back outside--and that owl I saw only a few weeks ago, somehow avenged us for this trespassing. I am torn between covering the front lawn outside our apartment with poison pellets, but can't bring myself to do so--thinking of the several baby rabbits, chipmunks, and squirrels, that live in the bush just outside our front window. (Also, I don't think we're allowed to). And so we wait, until "the management" can get the exterminator here. Never before have I looked forward to a Monday morning. So, while typing this lengthy post, my feet are up, and will continue to remain so. And even Carlos now wears at least socks while sitting at the computer, and we can't help but to occasionally look down--hoping for (so that we can get rid of it), but fearing the mouse's return.
Characters: Alyse (sick with a fever and sore throat--thanks a lot flu shot, a lot of good that did me!) and Carlos (who was working tirelessly to reformat our computer)
Setting: 11:30 at night on Friday, October 24th, at home in the "living room/kitchen/office/music room/dining room." I call it the living room.
"The Kick-off" (as we call it at school--can you tell I've been teaching story grammar elements??):
All I remember is Carlos yelling and leaping out of the computer chair. I turn around to see a very small mouse--yes mouse--running across our living room. Of course, I start screaming--"a mouse! A mouse!!!!." Meanwhile, Carlos is still yelling while flapping his arms wildly in the air. Next thing I know, Carlos runs out the front door, leaving it wide open. "GREAT!" I think to myself. My knight in shining armor has left me alone to fight this tiny foe. Exasperated, wondering where my beloved has gone, watching like a hawk for the small creature to re-appear from underneath the baseboard heater, wondering if I'm just delirious from the fever, and still trying to figure out WHAT Carlos is doing--suddenly he reappears with a stack of phone books and the word "determination" practically written out across his forehead. My hero! "Where is it?" he boomed. I could only point to the general location (of course, I was across the room, as far away as possible from the tiny beast). Carlos charged for the corner, and at this point, I lost it. I was laughing so hard, and I couldn't stop. "It touched my foot, it was on my foot!" Carlos kept saying, almost like a broken record, hoping for sympathy from his wife, who was still laughing. In my mind, it was almost as if I was a beehive again at girls' camp--watching, and laughing as the girls in my ward shrieked with horror as a tiny mouse ran across the beams above our bunk beds in our "cabin." But THIS was different. This was not girls' camp. This is my house. This is where I live! We (and by we, I mean Carlos) tore our "living room" apart--looking everywhere for this unwelcome rodent. I searched high and low throughout all of our other rooms, but to no avail! Score:
Mouse 1
Us 0
The next few hours were spent cleaning the apartment--scrubbing counters, and sinks, sweeping and mopping floors, putting away any hint of food--which is now tucked "safely" away either in the fridge or up high in closed cabinets, taking out all garbage, and anything else my poor brain could think of. All the while, I can't help but wonder--is my house THAT gross? How could a rodent be living in here???? I didn't think I was that bad of a housekeeper! Carlos washed his foot, thoroughly--so we shouldn't die from any diseases that may have been spread from the mouse's tiny feet in that brief instant. We immediately phoned both Carlos' mom and my sister--who were thankfully both awake. Words of comfort, empathy, and wisdom were shared. They reassured me that even the most careful of people can get mice in their houses--and it wasn't my fault. Memories were shared--previous experiences of mice in apartments, "back in the days when...," also the times we convinced my mom to let us get a hamster, and the time the pet store clerk almost convinced my mom to buy a pet rat (stories for another day!). All reasons why our poor children will never have pets. But, I digress.
Conclusion: As of now, there is no conclusion. This mysterious mouse has continued to evade us. He has not shown his tiny little tail again in our small 500 sq. ft. apartment. There really aren't that many places to hide in here--trust me. I lull myself into a false sense of security, thinking that our "visitor" is back outside--and that owl I saw only a few weeks ago, somehow avenged us for this trespassing. I am torn between covering the front lawn outside our apartment with poison pellets, but can't bring myself to do so--thinking of the several baby rabbits, chipmunks, and squirrels, that live in the bush just outside our front window. (Also, I don't think we're allowed to). And so we wait, until "the management" can get the exterminator here. Never before have I looked forward to a Monday morning. So, while typing this lengthy post, my feet are up, and will continue to remain so. And even Carlos now wears at least socks while sitting at the computer, and we can't help but to occasionally look down--hoping for (so that we can get rid of it), but fearing the mouse's return.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)