Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Slightly unhinged.

I have a bit of a headache today. I guess that's what happens when you drink half a bottle of Moscato.

I needed the Moscato because I was putting away groceries late yesterday afternoon. And when I got ready to load canned goods into my lazy susan, I noticed spilled coffee grounds. Coffee grounds that had spilled out of the side of the bag because the bag had been chewed open.

Yes. The mice had gotten into my lazy susan. This, after 3 days of constant cleaning, steel wool placing, mousetrap setting and general profanity. When they couldn't get into my silverware drawer, the mice expanded their horizons.

I needed the Moscato. I needed it so badly that I was not thwarted by my malfunctioning corkscrew. I was not thwarted by the fact that I ended up with half the cork in the bottle. And I certainly wasn't thwarted by the fact that Moscato is traditionally a dessert wine. No, I was completely comfortable drinking it out of a juice glass at 5 p.m., long before any sort of food.

I don't drink a lot. But holy crap, I needed something to take the edge off. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry or just move. Why do the mice hate me so much? What sort of karmic debt am I paying here? I like Jacques and Gus Gus from Cinderella. But I'm pretty sure that the mice in our house are less Disney and more al qaeda.

It's hard to concentrate on much of anything when all you can smell is Pine-Sol, all of your canned goods are stacked in a lovely pyramid on your kitchen counter, and your silverware drawer - yes, the drawer and all of its contents - has been on the kitchen counter for 3 days. Like you're a hillbilly. With some can't-put-stuff-away version of Tourette's.

I'm starting to feel like Chuck Norris: I don't sleep. I wait. I wait for the mice to come and bust their way through the steel wool and aluminum foil fortress that I have crafted in my kitchen cabinetry. I will be waiting, armed with a surly attitude and a half-empty bottle of wine.

I guess I come by this vermin vendetta honestly.

My dad's pride and joy is his yard. When I was growing up, there was a mole that tunneled all over the yard - definitely without my dad's permission. My poor papa tried everything - bait, traps, all of it. But you know how he got finally rid of the mole? One morning, my sweet daddy was starting off on his morning constitutional, and he noticed 1 of the mole tunnels ... moving.

And then you know what my mild-mannered daddy did? He ran over and stomped the shit out of that tunnel. Dad + vexation at vermin + Adidas = a mole that tunneled no more.

That's how I feel about the mice.

7 comments:

JeanGenie said...

I am so, so sorry. We had an infestation a few years ago that was so bad I just had to stop counting the bodies. We resorted to professional bait traps. Not a great option when you have pets, I know. I fully understand the necessity of the Moscato.

Laura said...

As much as you are (and I am) a dog person, I think you should get a cat. That will make those stupid mice move on down the road. Maybe you could borrow one for a while. Think of all the fun it will add to your life to manage your herd of dogs with a new cat. Blog fodder. Just sayin.

Angie said...

Sorry to be tardy to the blog reading party. I had this issue last year and would suggest caulking (I know how you love caulk) anywhere you can find gaps along the outside of your house. I also got the sonic devices that plug into your outlet and emit mouse deterring pitches. I went with the mouse traps where you can't see their bodies (being of the husband-less sort and feeling 8 was too young to expect one's first born to take on this role) but the other things worked and I never had to see them sprung. And of course, eating granola bars stored in your car and dinner out until they're gone is another avoids the use of silverware! By now I'm sure you're gathering that you are not alone, my friend!

Green Girl in Wisconsin said...

Disney gives us all the wrong portrayal of mice. They are rodents. They are pests. They must DIE immediately. I feel your frustration, sister.

iwasbornold said...

Holy shit! I am dying with laughter. I love this whole post. My favorite line?

"I'm like Chuck Norris. I don't sleep. I wait."

Oh man I'm sorry you have mice but I'm laughing so hard I can't breathe. I think this is my new favorite post. Your writing just gets better and better. Jessie

Kelley said...

Your mice are terrifying me. My eyes dart around my kitchen every time I go in there, now. I haven't seen any evidence of critters, but I believe there is some serious deep cleaning ahead for me this weekend. I hate mice. Hate, hate, hate! I hope you kill every last one of the little bastards and I agree that a cat would be a great investment, as well as fodder for some epic blog stories!

Dorrie said...

My cats find the mice that venture into our home. We live in the country. They can't get the ones in the attic or walls though. And they got along with my dogs, when they were alive. The dogs were about 6 to 8 years old when the kittens came along. You have room for another furry baby, don't you? I recommend a female though. My male cat is high maintenance. Little girls are nice, but I will tell you that not all are good hunters. One of my four cats is the sweetest cat but not too bright. She tries but just can't get the hang of it.

Good luck with your new job on Monday. Remember, if you keep your expectations low, you might be pleasantly surprised.