I had planned to write something… else today. I’m not sure what, though. Maybe it was about Christmas decorations?
I really have no idea because all of my brain function is dedicated to this: OMGTHERE’SAMOUSEINMYHOUSE. EATING MY STUFF. IN MY TRASH. WHAT IF I FIND IT SOMEWHERE? WHAT IF IT FINDS ME?
We have caught several mice in the garage since living here. I know we should probably be using humane traps and releasing them, but what we have here isn’t an isolated incident, it’s mice. MULTIPLE. Don’t tell Stimey. I was less than pleased with the mouse problem in the garage, but we live in new construction and it’s to be expected, I guess. As long as they were confined to the garage, I could shut the door and ignore them.
Now they’re in my house. IN MY HOUSE. I have called our pest control guy, and it’s been twenty-five minutes, and he hasn’t called me back. I realize that he won’t be able to solve the problem immediately, but I’ve got this mental picture of him as a Ghostbuster. I’m not sure where I’m going with that.
MOUSE IN MY HOUSE.