There’s a mouse in my house.
And I want it out.
Unfortunately, the task of, um, exterminating it, falls on me.
I knew when I became a mother that I would have to deal with things that would make me squeamish. You know, like poop and snot and spit-up.
Disposing of a dead rodent was not on my list.
Those kinds of things were left to my husband. And believe me, when we lived in Florida we had our fair share of unwelcome creatures inside our home – frogs, lizards, SNAKES! Oh my!
Now, it’s just me and my daughter. And I know if she sees the mouse, she’ll either freak or want to keep it as a pet.
But there I was last week, sitting on the couch, minding my own business, enjoying a glass of wine and a moment of peace after putting my little one to bed when I noticed something scurry across the floor. It ran along the wall behind my dining room table, then behind the armoire.
In typical girl fashion, I put my feet up on the couch and shrieked. Then I remembered there was no one around to rescue me.
I got a broom, with the hopes of shooing it out the kitchen door. But of course, it didn’t work out that way. After a chase around the living room – I swear that thing was taunting me from behind the plastic pumpkins on the hearth – he ran to the kitchen and ducked behind the dishwasher.
I decided to wait him out. I waited and waited and waited. Then I decided I would run the dishwasher. That would get him out, right? Or cook him. Please don’t email me PETA.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. I just knew that mouse was going to scamper across my face. I was terrified of a creature smaller than my hand.
The next day, I took action. I bought traps and strategically placed them around the house. I am determined to catch him. I refuse to go to sleep every night with towels covering the bottom of the bedroom door so a mouse can’t get in – not that I’ve done that or anything.
Nope, I’m not going to let the mouse win. He’s got to go.
I was feeling rather brave in my battle with the mouse.
But then I realized that once I get him, I have to, um, get rid of him.
Yeah, I think I’m just going to put my feet back up on the couch and have another glass of wine.