Thursday, March 12, 2009

This Means War!!

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Oh yes, this is war indeed! You see, my husband is now back from his lull on the mainland. Thrust into reality by two mouse traps that needed emptying, children vying for his attention, and a wife who wouldn't stop lamenting over the issues of mice.  As normal he took it all in stride, emptying mouse traps, listening to every forlorn tale I could tell, and being extremely interested in each and every minuet detail the kids could tell him about what happened while he was gone.

It took him exactly 48 hours to convince me my red chair was safe. So I sat, it's dusty recesses screaming for me to enjoy again.  I climbed in, I curled up, I sneezed. I picked up the leapster (STOP LAUGHING!) for research benefit and started playing a game on it. Yes, I know it's a kid's game, but I was checking which games I wanted kids to play for school review this week.. Anyway, this is not about my need to play childish games, rather it's about the war I'm ensuing on..

So, there I was comfortably playing away, while Paper Mario was blaring in the background. (See I'm not the only one with a fetish for childlike games. My husband was busily playing away too!)  That's when it happened. As quick as you please a gray blur ran past me and then.. under me.

I didn't hold back this time. I screamed, and screamed, and for good measure I screamed more, and SUPER loud. I threw the leapster in the air and it crashed to the ground with such noise I was certain I broke it. Which left me somewhere between screams and tears. My husband, who'd been totally oblivious, so into his childish game, that he hit his head on our sloping roof. He jumped up and stood in his chair looking around with terror on his face.

I told him to quit clowning around and "GET ME OUT OF THIS CHAIR NOW!!!" He had to yank me out and I ran for the shelter of the office, which adjoins the "rodent room". Now, truth be said I was no safer in there, but in my spazzy frightful way I didn't think very well. No, I simply climbed up in one of those rolly swivel chairs and sought safety. I managed to wheel myself to the doorway to watch as my husband proceeded to flip my chair upside down and I screamed again as the mouse darted for the lego basket.

Now, we all know the first time these ugly rodents showed face I threw legos at them, how dare they hide behind my precious weapons now!  This means war! I boldly climbed off my chair, darted through the adjoining bathroom (our home is one big maze!) and into the kids room. Where I ruthlessly tore the SNORING dog from his bed and demand he help us.

I forgot that not only does our dog snore, eat cats, and chew on himself, he also has nightmares. His previous life must have been horrible (we adopted him from a dog's home), and so in his sleep induced stupor he arrived on the scene looking worse for ware. His tail firmly between his legs, his head staring at the floor. That's when it hit me, he'd done something far worse then chew on himself, when I find out what it is I'll let you know.

In the mean time we had a mouse who was currently cowering behind one of our huge baskets of cars. Why the mouse didn't jump into said car and make car noises like Ralph S. Mouse, I'll never know, but he didn't and for that I'm truly grateful. However, he still crossed the line by coming in my home and frightening me enough that I think I may have honestly wet my pants, and that, my friends, will never stand! This Is war!

So, there I was with said cowering dog and said husband. Who, I might add (husband not dog) was holding my pink crocs. On his hands. Not his feet. Why? Because I gave them to him, to put on, because said creepy mouse ran on his socks. Thank heavens they were his, and not mine. Mine would have been removed instantly and thrown in wood burning fire. I would have probably spent the next hour scrubbing my feet with a gallon of vinegar for disinfectant purposes, but that's all beside the point. I'm still not sure why they were on his hands, perhaps he hoped to whack the mouse with my shoe, which means I would have never worn it again. Ever. I would have burned it. I would have burned the ashes, and just for super good measure I would have burned those burned ashes!

However, the point is two perfectly good men (or at least one perfectly good man and one annoying dog from stupidville) were standing there doing nothing! So I attempted to be encouraging. I closed bedroom doors, I closed both bathroom doors (yes to one bathroom). I stood in my chair and asked where it was, you know that gentle reminder that they had a chore to do. They both looked at me like I was nuts.

Mouse took first move and darted past them both and into the creepy closet. Dog went back to bed and was heard snoring again very quickly. My husband, ever valiant, went into dark creepy closet and smacked my crocs around a bit. He lifted toy bins and slapped them down. He retrieved mouse trap and asked me to reset it. Handing it to me from between two very pink cros, which I may never wear again.. 

We braved the unknown depths of the downstairs together and I refilled it with peanut butter all the while cursing the mouse who managed to be light enough to lick it clean without being ensnared in it's jaws. All the while wondering how many more mice I could catch before I'd officially have to move out. Wondering exactly how to drop the news to the neighbor that I was demanding to be worked into his poppy contract next year. Therapy isn't going to come cheap, and that dog really needs his snoring issue dealt with!

Upon returning to the closet the brave and fearless husband put the trap in normal spot. No way was I going to do it. Nope, I returned to the safety of the business chair, not my beloved red heap of dust. I sat there, with my feet up off the ground and the leapster in my hand. Surely a few children's games would distract me and I could survive until bedtime, and if mouse made second attack I could easily wheel myself to the stairs, and possibly down them, right on out into the night where I could battle wallabies and possums, who are far less scary then mice!

But no, because you see that fearless little mouse set the trap off as soon as the light of the closet was flicked off. I think that goes far beyond mouse heroics and veers towards mouse stupidity. I sat there for a minute before I heard mouse chatter which said, "LET ME OUT!" Let him out? Was he nuts, I'd just watched my husband chase him around the room for the past ten minutes, let him out? I think not. After all this is war!!

Rather then verbally fight with a mouse I stuffed my fingers in my ears and I said, "I'm going to bed!" Oh that's right, we got the runt of the litter and he was so small he was ensnared but not hurt. Where was I? Pretending to snore right along with the dog! After all, I had socks to burn, feet to disinfect, dogs to lecture, and a chair to stare forlornly at.. because at this rate, it's going to be a new century before I can safely sit there again! 


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