Well . . . .
We are all settled in here in Clawson. My girls are doing great. Joe's working here and there and I'm still looking for a job, but all in all, we are ok.
Except for the mouse.
We moved back into our lovely, clean, freshly painted home and it's stayed clean, believe it or not. So when I saw the mouse poop in the bottom cupboard, I wanted to cry. I don't like mice. They are disgusting, sneaky, creepy little rodents and they belong outside, far, far away from my house, not in my freaking pristine cabinets!
I will show no mercy. I was all for poisoning the little bastard and his family. But Joe pointed out that when you poison them, they have to go somewhere to die, potentially in the walls and that's just creepy. He also said the Billy the Exterminator didn't like using poison. I told him if he was willing to call Billy the Exterminator and have him come over and kill the mice, I'd be all about not poisoning him. Of course, Billy costs money and since we are unemployed, we went with the traps. Oh, not the humane traps. Look, if they want to live, more power to them - they just need to live OUTSIDE. Inside, all bets are off. So we put out the old fashioned, snap their little spines, mouse traps.
All that did was provide the little fuckers a steady meal of peanut butter for a couple of days. Once again, I pointed out the need for poison, but Joe, in his wisdom, said perhaps we should try a more sensitive trap. I said fine. But if they ate the damn peanut butter again, I would by the d-con myself.
This morning Sophie woke us up by telling us there was a dead mouse in the cupboard! Victory! Joe threw it in the garbage. But that reminded me of what a friend did, when confronted with the dead mouse in the mouse trap.
She made her teenage son take the thing out and swing it around the front yard a couple of times so all the other mice would know what happened to mice that ventured into her house! Genius. As another friend pointed out to me, you've got to let them know who's boss!