30 July 2009

This is war, and I will take prisoners

Who the F&%$ is this, waking me at 3:46 in the morning, crack of dawning, now I'm yawning.

That remake was what I was saying to myself this morning as my bedroom door was opened by my man and he switched on the light saying that there was a mouse in the house.

Of course I got up. Didn't really know what to do. I stood on the bed for about five minutes as he continued to look around the house with a broom as though it was an AK he could kill the critter with. I started moving things away from the walls so I could see it moving about; I put on some shoes (first shaking them out in case they were in there); I grabbed another broom so I could feel armed as well.

We went into the kitchen and I started throwing stuff away and cleaning out the drawers in case it went in any of those, or had a craving for stale crackers, nearly empty cans of Raid, or warranties of a broken dishwasher.

As I am cleaning and he is looking in the basement for me, the little Mickey ran under the broken dishwasher. Fortunately, or not, the last guy who came to try and work on it had removed the face plate from the bottom of the machine, so the mouse ran right under. I could use the flashlight and watch it move.

I had to make sure that the counters are flush with the walls so that it would not crawl back there, get in some drawers, or run to the other parts of the large spacious kitchen. Fortunately they are flush.

Every so often the little thing would peak its head out from under the dishwasher, see us with our weapons, and dart back under.

I had him stand guard as I went to Walgreens to get some sort of mouse killer (sorry to you animal lovers, but I don't like these things in my home). Got back with some traps, but none of that sticky stuff, which I figured would catch this thing best.

I built a makeshift tunnel from the dishwasher to the door in the kitchen using all the old teacher-binders and teacher's edition textbooks (thank you UbD and Social Justice Advocacy for the duplicate binders that I have yet to throw away for some reason). The pathway was great. Reached the door with no openings for the mouse to sneak through.

We waited for it to come back out.

And it did.

But not through the tunnel.

It came out the side right by the dishwasher/tunnel connection spot.

Now I'm starting to feel like I am the secretary of defense having to map out my strategy and weaponry.

This. Is. War.

I leave for another run. Gas stations have nothing, so I head to Home Depot. By now it is 6:40, but they are fortunately open. I find the products I need -- gummy pads and some poisonous bait. As I head to the checkout line, I have three men walking toward me (not together) who for some reason think this is the perfect time for them to hit on me. "Damn, you sure are sexy." "Can I help you with your problem, Miss Fine Thang?" Whistles, and more. It is too early for this. And I look like shit. It is early, I am stressed, and I probably have some serious morning breath.

When I get to the self-checkout line, another man comes at me asking if he can get my number so he can give me a call and get me his cat. I take Joseph's number and rush out.

Get home and place the sticky pads in front of and underneath the dishwasher.

At one point, I decide to take a break from my vigil and take out the trash.

Walk it around to trash bin on the side of the house and what is waiting for me there?

No, not the mouse. My local Jehovah's Witnesses.

They have been coming around for about a year. I haven't answered the door for about 8 months. They got me. They were truly excited to see me after all this time. Wanted to talk about the issues going on with race in society and how it ties to their recent Awake! and Watchtower pamphlets and what the good book says. I politely listen for awhile. Then point toward the back and tell them I am doing some work. They look at my roses in the front of the house and start admiring them. Thank you. But I really need to be getting back.

My hands are shaking for fear that the mouse has escaped and gone through the house.

I am still sitting vigil.

Waiting for this thing to come out, feed on the poison, get stuck in the goo, or get smashed by my broom.

Can't wait until it is done so I can rest easy.

As Bob Marley said:
That until that day
The dream of lasting peace, world citizenship
Rule of international morality
Will remain in but a fleeting illusion
To be persued, but never attained
Now everywhere is war, war


  1. Oy! I'm laughing so hard I'm crying.

    I had a mouse at my tutoring center last year. I ended up having to close for the day; all the teenagers there were freaking out; I have to admit I was too. After they left I called the building office to tell them to do something about it. However, I also went to Walgreens the next day and bought some traps of my own in case they didn't. What is it about the little critters that causes us to panic so much?

  2. I'm sure one day after I have caught it back I may laugh looking back.

    Not sure why these tiny things are so scary to us. I was talking with my sister about this today. Especially weird since they are just as creeped out by us.

  3. You're a braving soul than me. I would have not come off the bed...

    I had a cat for 18 years and initially she was great at killing them. However, as she got older, she just liked to step on their tails and play with them.

    Kitty has passed and I now use DCON pellets (dangerous to cat) but kills small critters. You might want to try that.

  4. I started to use poison pellets, but heard that the mice might die somewhere where you may not realize and stink up the house. I'm sticking to glue pads and old school traps for now. Though I do have some of those poison baits on the glue traps to entice them there.


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