"I want to tell you my secret now."
Monday, March 1, 2010 at 1:59PM I feel like the kid in the Bruce Willis flick who whispers: "I see dead people."
I see mice. Everywhere.
Of course, I only actually saw one. One really BIG one. It scared the shit out of me in the bathroom last night. [Ha-ha. Scared the shit out of me. In the bathroom. It's only funny if you're still in junior high school. Which apparently I am.]
Anyway, I hit the bathroom one last time before bed and, just as I walked in, the bugger dashed from behind the radiator. I jumped immediately to the top of the toilet and the little thing... no, BIG THING... ran to the door, hopped a bit like it was trying to scurry up the baseboard, then realized it was best to run out the open doorway. Into the hall and the darkened beyond.
I didn't scream so much as take super loud, short hyperventilated breaths.
Kent heard the barely suppressed cries, saw a shadow streak past the door and thought I threw something out of the bathroom.
What in God's name I would be throwing out the door I don't know but....
I made him turn on all the lights and search the house for signs that the vermin was hiding under radiators or chairs or, God forbid, hiding beneath beds.
I lay awake for a long time. So long I can't remember when my body finally put me out of my misery and succumbed to sleep. I listened for the faintest rustling, imagined rubbery mouse feet on my face, saw black eyes staring at me from behind the bookshelf. At 4:20 a.m., I pulled the pillow from where it fell on the floor and put it under my cheek. But not before shaking it to make sure there were no mice cowering inside.
I searched the bedrooms and closets in the morning for telltale droppings, found a horrifying number - AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! - then called the mouse guys immediately.
Young Mr. Fabian, a new guy, stuffed copper wool into the feet of every radiator in the house. He filled holes in the foundation outside and in the basement too. He also delivered the bad news: we have huge gaps between the brick foundation and the wood siding. Too many for him to fill today. The good news: he'll be back.
I just Googled my savior's name thinking it might have some significant meaning. It's Latin for "bean grower." It should be "mouse slayer".
So now, three of the four are tucked into their beds for quiet time and I'm typing away at the computer waiting for the rustling, cringing at the thought of a fat furry thing racing alongside the dining room wall. Torturing myself with the shadows of imagined mice. Everywhere.
Reader Comments (6)
I'm sure this was a great post, as usual, but I didn't read it. I got to your second paragraph and had to make a run for the Xanax. OH, MICE MAKE ME SHUTTER.
I saw what was either a rat or a squirrel in the garage on Saturday while I was doing laundry. I haven't stepped back in the garage since then. Instead, I've been sending my husband to change laundry loads while I give instructions from the back door. He's asked how long this is going to continue...
Meredith -- I hear you about the irrational fear. I am consumed by it.
Melissa -- I think you've stumbled on to something. I suggest you "see" an opossum next time. That should keep your husband on laundry duty for another three weeks or so.
I saw one of the furry bastards last night around 12.30. I went hunting on hands and knees for fifteen minutes and came up empty handed.
WHAT???!!!!!!!! WHERE?!!!!!!!!
Very informative post. Thanks for taking the time to share your view with us.