Carrie Leigh (carrie_leigh) wrote,
Carrie Leigh

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They're crafty, I'll give them that.

 You all know how I feel about small woodland creatures, right?  We're not even going to go into the dolphin thing, because, I don't feel strong enough to rehash my hatred for them this morning, but squirrels?  Bunnies?  I don't trust them  They present this, 'Oh look at how cute I am'  face to the world, but are secretly plotting to take over.  I have proof. (I sound like a zealot insane person but whatever.  It's who I am.)

But I digress.  I have a new enemy.

It happens every fall.  Every frickin' fall they get in, because it's cold outside, and my house is all warm and snuggly.  At what time do they get in?  When hubs is off killing bigger things that haven't done a thing to him, while his wife is left alone battling the most heinous and evil of all household pests:  the mouse.  

*cue scary music*

We have a pier and beam house.  For all you laypeople out there, it means that it wasn't built on a concrete slab.  There is a crawlspace underneath, and evidently, there's stuff crawling around down there.  Guhuhuhuh.  It makes me oogie just to think about it.

I swear, it could have been a re-enactment of Leave it to Beaver the other day, had I been wearing heels and pearls, because I certainly did jump up on a stool, June Cleaver style, and  shreik.  Loudly. And did an all-over body shiver.  And then I swore.  Loudly.  For several minutes.  The good ones, too.  Would have made Dennis Maher proud.

Then, I gathered my wits about me and I went on a mission.  Hubby isn't the only hunter in the household, I thought.  Granted, I've never killed anything that took more than your average household flyswatter, but this was not to be bourne.  So, I got some of your basic, old-fashioned moustraps, put cheese on the little things, and waited.  I went back, maybe a day later?  

The cheese was gone.  The traps un-sprung.  Did the same thing with peanut butter.  Again, no creamy spread, traps just like I set them.  These little things are bastards.  I think there's just the one.  But at the rate I'm feeding him cheese and peanut butter, he's soon going to be mousezilla, sitting on the couch next to Katie Bell the wonder dog (who is absolutely worthless about the whole thing, by the way), ordering what he'd like for dinner.

Crap.  Girl with college degree defeated by tiny little mouse.  Or by an army of peanut butter and cheese eating super!rodents, bent on world domination.  If I disappear mysteriously from online over the next few days, it's because I'm being held hostage by the little buggers, and I'll need someone to come over with a spatula and some D-Con.  I can count on you guys, right?

Tags: rant, silliness

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