My Little Life

Whatever you do, for the life of you, do NOT call the mouse you just caught a "monster" in front of the baby. Trust me on this. If you never listen to another word I say, just listen to this. As you know, we are in the middle of Mouse Wars; The Saga, over here...and the other night, I happened to see a (rather large) mouse crawl from under one couch (the one I was sitting on) to the other. Now, as much as I really don't mind mice (but, I really don't like them either...I guess what I'm getting at, is I don't grab the hem of my skirt, jump up on the table, and swat at the mouse with the broom that is always, conveniently, in my hand...), the whole idea of a mouse coming out from under my butt freaked me the heck out. I dealt with it like I deal with all stress (no, I didn't NOT speak to it , why do you ask?) I went to bed and informed my husband to set more traps in the living room (and, by "informed", I mean I "begged, demanded and otherwise...

Round Two: 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 love this 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?! Gone. Traps were MIA, again. BUT!! But, I was wiser this time...so we immediately looked under the couch, and sho' nuff. T here they were...those two, YES, TWO!!, traps were stuck to the bottom of the couch...sans mouse. This means war. LITTLE MOUSE!! DO YOU HEA...