An unwelcome tradition: Santa Mouse.
I’m really disappointed in myself that I can’t post a new read from Blanche’s Book Club today – I am stuck on chapter two of the book (absolutely NOT a reflection of the content) simply because this week has been NUTS. I keep bringing the book to bed with me, and then when my head hits the pillow, I’m zonked.
But today is my LAST day of work until after Christmas, so you can definitely expect to see a book review next week!
Last week, I mentioned that I’d been blessed with the presence of a mouse in my apartment. A little brown mouse.
I had just settled onto my bed to watch some episodes of “Orange is the New Black” when my cat ran into my bedroom, chasing said mouse through the room. I said nothing, grabbed my keys, and went to buy fresh mousetraps.
Because this is not the first time I’ve had a mouse in this exact apartment. And it happened almost one year (it was just one day shy of being exact) before, when Austin experienced the first cold snap of the season. When it happened last year, I screamed bloody murder while standing on the back of my couch.
This year, I was going to catch the sucker and show all the mice in the ‘hood that apartment 208 is not the place you want to venture. I don’t turn on the heat, and my traps are set with organic peanut butter.
Before last year, I’d never seen a mouse, let alone had to deal with the terror that comes from the experience of one setting up shop in your house.
Anyway, I set the traps that Saturday night, and locked the cat and I in one half of the apartment, in hopes the traps would snap and the problem would be solved. But they didn’t, so I spent my Sunday cleaning in hopes I’d pickup every little crumb and possibly scare the mouse away.
But Monday morning, around 2 am, my cat was chasing said mouse – and I ended up back on the couch, screaming. I grabbed a broom – because why not? And I sat there, for hours, waiting for the bastard. It managed to find a hiding spot near my Christmas tree, and ended up running under my stove.
I then got the great idea to set up a trap around the stove – for certain I’d catch it. But, after I set it up, I had to leave for work – running on around 4 hours of sleep. I talked to my leasing agent, and she didn’t really seem to care.
“Hmm.. we can send someone out on Thursday to set up traps,” she said.
Great. Four more days with the mouse.
So, the traps – thick strips of glue – have been lining my kitchen for 8 days now and the fucking mouse is nowhere to be seen.
On that crazy Monday morning, my trusty cat Blanche actually caught the mouse, carrying it around the apartment in her mouth, before setting it on the floor and it running under the couch. I felt terrible for not having something to trap it (I started pacing the apartment with an empty shoebox in my hand for two hours afterward). Nonetheless, I’m proud of her and thankful she found the mouse in the first place, and has kept it away from me – although now I’m convinced we both have Lyme disease.
I am still unsure of how the mouse came in – I sealed my dryer vent last year – and live on the second floor. I hope it came in through my stove connection, and that it left that way as well, and I also hope it told its entire mouse family that there’s a crazy cat lady in the apartment, and you’ll be damn lucky if you make it out alive!!
But you know what’s super annoying on top of all of this? Mouse traps don’t work. Last year, I bought the traps that are like a little tunnel – snap traps that are enclosed so you don’t have to see the mouse. They are easily $10 a piece, and never caught a thing.
When I was chained to my couch on Mouse Watch 2016, I started Googling all sorts of things about mice, and found all of these ridiculous articles about how you have to set one trap per each foot of wherever you saw the mouse, and how you must set the trap using gloves or else the mouse will smell a human scent and know it’s a trap. UMM COME ON.
Like how the hell are you ever supposed to catch a mouse with all of these rules? My mom is coming in town tonight and has graciously offered to help me move some of my furniture to clean and stuff any holes with steel wool in hopes this won’t happen again.
I’m not a fan of this holiday tradition, so perhaps this will be the last year for the real life, Santa Mouse.
Posted on December 16, 2016, in Light Pulp and tagged apartment life, blog, blogger, challenge, Christmas, Holly A. Phillips, home life, life, mice, mouse, mouse trap, mousetrap, rodent, santa mouse, texas, The Bitter Lemon, winter. Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.