yes, the least secretive mouse in the world darted right out onto my kitchen rug. it quivered there for a minute, then fled back under my sink.
my first thought? thank god it wasn 't a roach.
i had a mouse in my house last summer. he'd sneak into my garbage every night and graze. i convinced myself it was just the sound of paper settling in my recycling bin. (yes, i can be highly delusional). but after a week went by, i knew it had to be addressed. i set out traps. fled to work. came home and found my little murdered victim.
now, i sprung my traps back into action. i even used a good blueberry jam to entice it. (after touching the mouse trap with the jam spoon, i stupidly put the spoon back in the jam. this wouldn't be so disgusting, if the mouse trap hadn't still had peanutbutter on the spring from the first go around. do i throw the jam away? i scrapped off the top layer, but i'm not sure i'll ever be able to eat it again. grr and sigh at the same time.)
for the next hour i wrote, waiting and cringing, as the little pest rooted around. it was so overtly loud at one point, i had to look for him. i thought he might have slipped into a wine bottle that's in the recycling, but instead, he was just trying to get the heck out of here by climbing out the plumbing through a hole in my wall. feeling my presence, he slipped off the pipe -- i could almost hear a tiny, mousy "ack!" escape him -- plopped to the floor and vanished.
thank goodness, i haven't heard from him since.
i don't want to find him dead. i know. i know! they're vermin. and in NYC not something that can be treated with kid gloves. last summer, my dad asked if i was going to trap my mouse humanely. i scoffed (because even at my age i still act like a bratt) and said, "dad, it's a pest. there's way too many in this city. if i let it go, it'll just infest someone else's house."
true, but there's also a lot of writers in NYC. what does that make us? and why do we get free reign while mousey gets the giant clamp trap. karma?
though i think the little guy high-tailed (low-tailed, whatever) it out of here, i keep seeing him everywhere. gasping each time.
|duh. it's a cord.|
|duh, it's a nasty bit of organic shower curtain that you really could cut off.|
|duh. no it's not mouse droppings, but have you ever heard of sweeping?|
he's even turning up in my reading materials.
|i swear he was number 4. which according to this article in |
New York Magazine means he has a human liver inside of him. cute, right?
the whole episode has made me reazile two things.
1. cute as he is, the traps are still out, and kill him i will. the thought makes me a little sad. before i moved here, there would have been no question that i'd have bought a humane trap. hardened NYer? or realistic city dweller. or is that the same thing? either way, i guess i'm now both.
2. i'm not a very good cleaner. i mean, seriously. did you see pictures 2 and 3? how embarrassing. my landlady hired a cleaning lady to do my hallway (as seen here)
and the sight of it made me gasp (with all this gasping, i should have been born in the 1800's. luckily, i don't also swoon.). so this is what clean is, i thought, and simultaneously, how did she do that?
oh, corrie. there is still much to learn.