A few days ago, I mentioned that we had a little unwelcome visitor. Or maybe visitors, plural. I’m not sure. Well, Jaq and maybe Gus and Stuart Little are still here. And I may die of a heart attack. I kid you not.
OPC pest control came out to take care of the problem. I guess you could say they’re taking care of it, but I am less than thrilled with their method. They put out this poison bait in the water heater closet (which happens to be next to the kitchen) and in the cabinet under the kitchen sink. This bait attracts the mice and eventually kills them. Eventually meaning they may eat on it for a COUPLE OF WEEKS before they die. Seriously, people? What happened to good old fashioned traps that kill ’em instantly?
The last few nights, as Adam and I have been reading in the living room, we’ve heard a mouse rattling around in that closet, eating the bait. And it has made me psychotic. Truly psychotic.
I cannot be at peace in my kitchen! Tonight, when I was cooking, I felt something brush across my foot, and I jumped a mile high. Then, just about the time I got over the first scare, I promise you I saw something dark scurry across the floor. I screamed out loud and jumped on a chair, heart racing ninety to nothing. Luckily, Adam wasn’t home to see this ridiculousness, but I did call him, freaking out, and he was kind enough to pick up some legit traps on the way home. Wise man knows if we don’t get rid of these things ASAP he’s going to be paying for my therapy.
Adam put the real traps out with a bit of peanut butter to allure the rascals. But when I went to get my midnight snack (because I have this problem of staying up half the night), I could have sworn I heard squeaking. Either I’m having serious hallucinations, or mice are overtaking my kitchen, neither of which are favorable possibilities. So, Adam checked the traps. And do you know what? That dang mouse had eaten the peanut butter right off the trap and gotten away.
So, round two of the mouse catching chronicles has ensued. I’ll keep you posted. I know you’re on the edge of your seat. Pray for my sanity, y’all.
In more pleasant news, I am no longer a hair vigrin (I’m told this is what you’re called if you’ve never put color in your hair). I got my hair cut for the first time in almost 4 months today, and I decided that the 20+ gray hairs that I have need to be dealt with. Clearly, I had just let myself go. Jenny has lots of gray too. She says we’re too young to be dealing with this, and I agree. What’s up with gray hair in your mid-twenties?
Anyway, I just got a gloss that is very close to my natural color so I won’t have to do up-keep too often. This was a big step for me, though.
Maybe next time I should do something more dramatic, less boring. We’ll see.
Hope y’all have a happy, mice-free day!