There may be a mouse in my house. Oh yes, there are signs!
Have I spotted the little critter? No. But I've found some little droppings here and there and I know they're not mine.
They're clever, these mice. They come out at night while I'm snoozing in my bed. And honestly, if they're going to leave their droppings somewhere, I'd prefer they leave them in the toilet!
We have a plan of action. We started by leaving the kitchen light on last night. My husband's theory was that mice would be afraid of the light, afraid of being spotted. But that didn't work; this morning the evidence was in full sight.
Sneaky little buggers. So now we have to go with Plan B. My husband will buy some mouse traps over the weekend and we'll do some mouse trapping. Let's see them wiggle their way out of that.
It makes me think back to my old third floor apartment in Pawtucket. Why, before I even moved in my 5-year-old nephew from downstairs announced, "Aunty Kathy, if you live here you're gonna have bats and mice."
Hmm. Surely the young man is yanking my chain, I hoped. I mean, he's only five, right?
However, on my very first night living there, I padded into the kitchen to get a glass of water before bed and right in the middle of the kitchen floor sitting there staring at me was a---
You guessed it, a mouse.
And of course, I screamed.
My brother-in-law from downstairs was summoned (the great white hunter, according to my sister), and the mouse problem was dealt with. At least for the time being.
There were other mice in my future... and bats, too.
We've been pretty lucky in this house, but I guess that luck has changed. I don't like the idea of sharing living space with rodents so they better beware!
I'm gonna go all Wicked Witch of the West on this mouse--
"I'll get you, you critter, and your little turds, too!"
