Of Mice & Men

Or, in this case, women.

Or more precisely, "woman". Just one.

One sleep deprived, just a bit over the edge, give me an espresso drip now, slightly crazed woman.

And that one...would be...me.

Never before have we had a trouble with mice. "Mouse?" Yes. I would hear a skitter up in the attic space. I would alert the Y-chromosome endowed dwellers of the abode. A nice, humane little trap would be set with peanut butter. And within a day or two, compete bliss. (Defined by the quiet lack of skitter.)

This usually occurs in Fall, as God's furry little creatures instinctively look for a cozy place to call home for the upcoming winter chill. And, of course, my house is as cozy as they come.

But, I really don't tolerate extra, uninvited roommates. Even if they are cute, & small, & mostly quiet.

This summer is a different story.

We have ghosts. In the attic.

Oh, not real ghosts. That would be cool, in a creepy sort of way, & I could boast about it & spend my time trying to convince people that they are real.

Nope, instead, we have mice. House mice. Not cute little deer mice, or spunky little field mice. Nope. Dingy grey, rather on the large size, frumpy old house mice. I know. I got to identify the first culprit. And, using handy Google Images, found a picture so the son could peg the second.

Both, by the way, are deader than doornails now. One by humane little trap. The other in hand to hand combat.

But the skittering continues, & I haven't had a good night's sleep in over two weeks. And, it's starting to mess with my head.

I've been getting advice from others who have undergone this sort of furry commando assault. Poison is out. I can't stand the thought of a small defenseless being ingesting poison...only to be eaten by something up the food chain, & so on, until my little act of vengeance has a ripple effect throughout the entire environment. Besides...have you ever smelled a dead mouse? Ew...imagine THAT stuck in your walls. In summer.

A co-worker recommended those ultrasonic plug-ins. You know, "Glade for Rodents". However, that only works to get them out of the particular room where you have it plugged in. That problem, we don't have, thanks to the big furry kittens, who, by the way, are excellent hunters. (Case in point: I have NEVER had a problem with rogue cat toys!)

But this has to stop. Now. I need sleep.

So, off I went to the local Super-every sort of thing you could ever want for cheap-store. And I wandered up & down the aisles looking for a way to rid myself of my little inconvenience. I checked the home improvement/hardware section. It seemed the obvious choice as getting rid of those creatures would definitely improve things around THIS home!

Nothing.

So, off I went to the garden section where I found a myriad of pest control solutions. For things with MORE than 4 legs. And thoraxes.

I checked the housewares section. And while all those gadgets would have come in handy if I was attacked while cooking, none were suitable for catching things in the attic unless I was to sit there armed & ready.

And during my wanderings, I kept an eye out for a blue-vested angel to point me in the right direction. And found none. (Come to think of it, I hadn't even been "greeted" when entering the store. Hurumph!)

So, as a last resort, I headed off to the sporting section. And began eyeing up the guns. Of course THERE I found an employee who asked if he could help me find something. With a gleam in my eye, and a rifle in my sights, I snarled..."I need something to get rid of mice."

Honest to god, the man took a step back.

He told me I would find what I was looking for over in the grocery part of the store.

Huh? Wow, why didn't I think of that. So, off I went...to find shelves of poison one aisle over from the cookies. And those cheap little wooden traps. And that's it.

Crestfallen, I took my other items up to check out (yes, finally grabbed Season 5 of SG-A & a TInkerbell notebook for blogging notes) & wandered out to the car. *sigh* What now? I couldn't return home empty handed. I needed to be rid of my nightmare!!!

As I looked up, it hit me. Home Depot. Shining like a beacon. Ah, thank goodness for the wonders of progress & super-malls. Redemption. Not wasting a second, I drove over, ran into the store & straight to customer service. I was pretty excited that I finally was somewhere that could help. It being a "Home" place & all. A friendly little man came out & asked what he could do for me.

Of course, my response was, "Come over to my house & kill my mice!" Yep...he took a step back too. Then led me off to the aisle I had been dreaming of. Traps, & sonic plugs, & poisons. Oh my! And...sticky pads.

My little man was a compadre of sorts...having once lived in an apartment of questionable upkeep. Sticky pads were apparently sent by the gods. They will rid me of mice. It's just a little, well, icky. You see, they get their little paws stuck in the goo...but don't die...and, well, you get the picture.

But, he guaranteed, they work. If you can get the mice to play twister on them. "Plunk a blob of peanut butter in the middle." (Even though I said I had Einstein's mice, & they knew PB was a TRAP!) Then, have your husband "dispose" of them." "He can do that, right?"

"Well," I said, "if he won't, I'll come back & have you do it!"

So, home I went. Soon, my sticky pads were strategically spread about the locations of the skittering. And the waiting began.

I heard the skittering again during the night.

Back & forth, & around.

For 45 minutes.

But no sounds of stuckness.

I may be going back for that gun!