31 July 2008


I've got a mouse. Yes, you heard me, a mouse. There is a mouse and he's in my house. I don't know whether he's brought a lout or a louse, but I'd rather have geese, even a grouse. I'll have to set traps or invite him to joust. Do what it takes to get him out out out! I just can't believe it, but there is no doubt. There is a mouse and he's in my house. I'd like a strong drink, to get good and damned soused, for who can relax with a mouse in their house? Once he is gone I shan't cry or pout. But, at the moment, I'm ready to shout. Take a gallon of bleach and give my kitchen a douse. Clear out the cupboards, throw everything out. For I have a problem I wish to turn about: THERE IS A FUTHERMUCKING MOUSE IN MY GODDAMN HOUSE!


Now, while I might give the dust bunnies free reign in my home from time to time, I take care of my kitchen. That and my bathroom are always tidy and sanitized. The dust may collect in the rest of my roost when I'm in a writing frenzy, but the kitchen and cozzy are cleaned up daily. So imagine my surprise when I saw Mr. Mouse dart across my kitchen floor this morning.

This happened once before about two years ago. I came home from a long day at work, walked into my kitchen and saw a little rodent shoot across my floor from my stove to under my sink. I didn't scream or curse, I simply turned around, went to the store and purchased rubber gloves (to replace the old ones I'd use), bleach (I only had that special fabric-safe kind and wasn't going to waste that), a mask (breathing in their waste can kill you), sponges and D-Con.

Save all your cruelty comments for someone without a mouse. I'm a Buddhist. I'll deal with my own karma, thank you.

I cleaned out every drawer and cupboard, threw out a bunch of dishtowels and table cloths (wouldn't really want those near my food even with several hot water washes and ample servings of Clorox), scrubbed it all down with bleach and hot water. Soaked all of my utensils in bleach and hot water...twice. I strategically placed the D-Con and then waited for the little bastard to be no more. It didn't take long. It was done in day. Quick and easy. That's the way I like it. When it comes to killing rodents, that is.

But now, another little bastard is back. Breading where I eat. I called my management office and could clearly hear the implied yawn. Someone will be by next week. NEXT WEEK?!? WTF again? So, now I'm off to buy more D-Con, new rubber gloves, a mask and sponges. It's going to be a long day. But, later, I'll throw a little goodbye party for Jerry. May he and his rest in peace. And may the rest of them have the foresight to stay the hell out of my house so they can be free to live a long a happy mousy life.


devon said...

I had the same thing a few years ago. A mouse in the house. As I cleaned I imaged the wife mouse being and old harpy and yelling at her husband that he never goes to places with the most cheese. It was funny.

RUAWAKE said...

I'm just focused on the babies they will have that will soon turn into obnoxious teenagers and party at my house. Ugh.