One night last week, the Mr. and I were doing responsible marriage stuff in the kitchen. (STOP IT!! Not that...we were paying bills, if you must know. And by "paying bills" I mean "paying bills"...that's not code for something else. You know, like how "playing Scrabble" or "shakin' hands" is code for that.)
We kept hearing this scritchy scratching business coming from the stove. So, we investigated: (*snicker* I lovethis stuff...)
I stocked up on sticky traps, we baited them (a teeny tiny smidge of peanut butter on the edge) set them out according to the blue print plan we had drawn up to annihilate these little suckers, and we went to bed.
And when we woke up?!
Traps were MIA, again. BUT!! But, I was wiser this time...so we immediately looked under the couch, and sho' nuff. There they were...those two, YES, TWO!!, traps were stuck to the bottom of the couch...sans mouse.
This means war.
LITTLE MOUSE!! DO YOU HEAR ME?! WAR!!!
This saga, it is not over...