Last night I was taking serious advantage of the Hubs feeling better than he had in a week and instead of doing laundry or picking up the house I decided to stalk Facebook for a good half hour while the Hubs took Newbie upstairs and commenced the bedtime stories/diaper change/lullaby/prayer program.
Then it happened. I heard a clutter beneath the furnace next to me and then heard hefty plastic scraping against the trim then I saw a wee little mouse buffoon his way out from the furnace attached to the trap. OH MY SATURDAY MORNING DONUTS!!!!
I jumped up on the BOOKSHELF and started screaming. SCREAMING.
Why?
Because the mouse was squeaking. SQUEAKING!
So I kept screaming. I have never seen anything more pathetic as far as mice go in my entire life. Except the time the Hubs let one run around the house in a Pringles can while he devised a plan to get rid of it. Except that time. But this was awful.
After a good three minutes of screaming at the top of my lungs instructions to put Newbie in the crib and GET THE HECK DOWN HERE the Hubs finally heard me and came to the rescue.
But not before this happened.
I am sacrificing my dignity and sharing this picture in an effort to communicate the utter horror I witnessed. IT. WAS. HORRIBLE.
So the Hubs picked up all the traps today before he left for work because he doesn't "want to get a panicked call" at work today. Who can blame him? After the estrogen nightmare he encountered when he came down those stairs last night, you just can't blame the guy for calling the war off until he can be home to spare us all from the drama.
On a lighter note, look who woke up at 6 this morning!
He's zonked out now. It's 8:15. Sheesh!
But I'd be worn out too if I had played with every toy in the box yesterday like he did.
His messes never bother me because he is just so stinking cute.
Not even the mess he made IN HIS CAR SEAT last night on our way to the grocery store. Thank goodness for the recently purchased Piddle Pad. Only the onesie was sacrificed this time...well, the onesie and a good 20 minutes of grocery shopping time while we sat in the backseat cleaning up the culprit. But we'll take it over dismantling and washing the entire car seat. I knew that Piddle Pad would be worth every dime I spent.
Here's wishing you all a mouse-free Friday full of waterproof mascara and the satisfied feeling that comes with buying a Piddle Pad just in the nick of time!
Little Mother, I recently read of a remedy for those lirrle furry gray things with long sweeping tails. "Wrinkles" probably would not be inclined to eat bird seed,so he wouldn't bother with it, but the little gray guy would. Get a can of cayenne (red )pepper and sprinkle it on some bird seed where Mortimer would eat it. The pepper will burn his mouth,( but it does not bother birds.) He just might leave for better chow somewhere else.
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