You may recall a post from this fall, when I chattily related the tale of mice in our house, and our wonderful old cat being quite the mouser.
This is no longer a delightful story to be shared with my dear readers, it has become a pain in the ....neck.
Once mice get into your house, it turns out it can be quite difficult to remove them (other than bringing in a professional to gas the place, necessitating you moving out for a while). We, of couse, being the DYI's we are, have been tackling the fight on our own.
I use the term 'we' very loosely, as Mike has been the one to set the traps, clean up the areas they have made themselves at home in, and dispose of the nasty little bodies. I have helped clean, of course (it being MY area of expertise), but he has been the main mouse man (along with Claude, of course, who may have possibly set a record amongst mousers. Mike took a picture of him in action, and you will thank me that I do not share it here....)
I have never been much of a feminist (I am quite happy to have a man hold the door for me), and now I am really thankful I have that belief system. And really thankful that I have a husband who takes care of dead mice-have I ever told you what a great guy he is? I may have to remind you weekly, after this winter is over.
No matter how many mice we find, I still scream bloody murder at the sight of one. They make my skin crawl, and as Pioneer Woman said in her blog, (about the mouse infestation at her house-at least I am in good company), she would rather have snakes climbing up her pant legs than deal with mice.
Apparently, it has been a banner year for mice troubles. We have heard at each place we have bought more traps, that there is a big mouse problem this year. That doesn't reaaly do much to console me. Did the Farmer's Almanac predict it? Because then I could have been ready.
Mike continues to find the humor in it all, he sent me this yesterday, the heading of the email was "it could be worse"