I fell down on the job last week. My apologies. I think I need a husband, pet, or small child to make my blog more interesting. I would especially like a pet or small child that I could rent or borrow periodically to cure my blogger's-block.
Instead I have this...
A dog that would choose death by tortilla chips if given the chance. At least she went organic!
And an uninvited guest that creeps around late at night.
This is not an actual picture of the perpetrator, but an artist's rendition. Courtesy of Wikipedia.
A mouse is in my house! I would be happy to share with him, but I can't deal with his messy ways, and according to Wikipedia, mice are not housetrain-able. In spite of their propensity for carrying deadly infectious disease (ie., the Plague), I find mice cute. But this one has to go.
Because he's so cute, I can't bring myself to set out any traps. I'm afraid to use the glue traps because I know I'll forget to check it and remember only when the stench of dead mouse permeates my house. Or when I hear its screams for help at 1 am. Plus you have to drive the mouse 1 mile away from its nest to release it. I know the thing would get loose and take up residence in my car. Or bite me. Then I would be probably be exposed to rabies.
This is how I think. Rational? Not hardly. But guess who has 79 contingency plans encompassing all possible outcomes...97% of which end in total catastrophe? ME.
So...I "researched" mice on the world wide web, to find they have a natural aversion to mint. I doused cotton balls with peppermint extract and set them under my dresser (his main hangout) and haven't seen the fuzz ball (or his poo) since.
Case closed...for now.
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