Oh, I should probably share the reason as to why I am about to lose my mind, huh? I am living out the real life Mouse Hunt movie. And I hate mice, well any rodent for that matter. The way they scurry just freaks me out. A lot.
Because I live in Minnesota, and because mice can apparently smell fear, this is not my first rodeo. I lived in this gross-ass college house during my senior year. We had lots of mice. Like colonies and families of mice. And the colonies basically lived in our kitchen and were brave little fuckers. They would eat anything and everything that was left out. They would chew through bags to eat bagels. And apparently the bagels did not satisfy them because they also would go after butter. Butter!
I wanted to be humane and live trap them, but I finally stepped up my game and bought poison when my roommate had a mouse crawl in her bed. . . while she was in it. Eww. I just got shivers thinking about that. Ick, ick, ICK!
Anyway, I am rambling. This situation was over 2 years ago and that is not why I am about to currently have a nervous break down. I have lived in the same apartment for a year and a half and for the first year, we had no mice. And then in September I saw our first mouse. And we keep getting more and more.
Between then and now I have purchased 4 traps, set out 3 boxes of poison, and plugged in my ultrasonic rodent repeller device that I owned from my previous mouse colony days. I know, I sound crazy and a little neurotic.
Recently my roommate found a dead mouse in her room, so the poison must be working. This is the same roommate who found the mouse in her bed before. Fortunately she isn't bothered by mice, and actually finds them to be cute. I don't get it.
After she found the dead one, we (read: my mother) decided that we (read: my roommate and I) couldn't live this way any longer. My mom bought tape to seal up all of the holes in our apartment caused by the 1950's style heating pipes. Her and my step dad also covered up all of the holes for us, which hopefully will keep them out! The only problem is that by covering up the entrances/exits, 2 mice were trapped inside my tiny, shoe box apartment. One died from poison and was found under the Christmas tree. Merry Christmas? The other one was reallllyyyy active.
And this is why I am losing my mind. I had to watch the poor mouse circle round and round in our apartment. At first I was freaking out, standing on chairs and squealing. I finally
Now here is the frustrating part about living with mice; I watched the mouse eat peanut butter off of the snap trap. And the trap didn't go off! It didn't work. It's faulty. I was pissed, not that I wanted to watch the mouse get smooshed into a trap, but seriously, I want this critter out of my life!
It has since died from the poison, I'm sure. The new problem; where is it? Where did it die? My tiny apartment must have a dead mouse someplace, but I can't find it. Admittedly, I am not looking very hard, as I would probably freak out if I actually found it. I am lucky to have a roommate who can handle shit like this. I would be screwed if I lived alone.
Anyway, this is the end of my rant. The hunt is almost over and luckily we haven't seen another live mouse. Although now my roommate and I are experiencing some PTSD and if something moves, we automatically think it's a mouse. If a piece of paper falls, it's a mouse. If a bobby pin drops, it's a mouse. If an earring catches the light, it's a mouse in your hair. If nothing at all moves, it's a mouse. I feel like I have the eyes of a hawk now. And what a valuable skill that is to have. I can put that one on a resume.
Skills: great at spotting mice. Or nothing at all but freaking out anyways. Whatever.
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