I was going to write this big long post on marriage, but my husband is pointless sometimes.
Like last night, when Cheyenne and I saw A MOUSE skitter across the floor of her room, and I called him, multiple times, and left frantic messages, AND HE DID NOTHING.
So picture me and my daughter, at 10:30 at night, having a girl chat on her bed, when all of a sudden Cheyenne stops talking and gets this horrified look on her face.
“I just saw a mouse! It ran, right in my room!”
“What? A mouse? Oh gross, oh gross. How big?”
Instantly we are both standing on her bed and shuddering and gagging and gnashing our teeth and tearing our clothes.
“Oh God, Oh God.”
“What do we do?”
“Kill it of course!”
“How? We can’t even find it!”
“I think it went under the bed.”
“Oh gross. Can you see it?”
“I’m not sticking my face down there to look!”
“Neither am I! It’ll eat my face off!”
“Why didn’t Noah see the mouse? He was laying right in front of the door!”
“I don’t know! It had to have crawled right over his nose to get in!”
“Good-for-nothing sack of shi-”
“There it is there it is there it is there it is!”
“Kill it! Kill it! Auugggghhhhh!”
Ahem. And so went the night. Eventually I got up the courage to go into the kitchen and get 2 brooms, a flashlight, and a giant metal pot, and also Caleb’s impenetrable steel-toed boots. Upon further inspection, I found mouse poop on the floor of the pantry behind the dogfood container and I threw up in my mouth.
We brought all three dogs into Cheyenne’s room but they were worthless except for Darcy. We sent out a mass text to every mouse-killing male in our immediate area; only one friend replied to explain that he wouldn’t be very helpful. For 3 hours we had a standoff with this mouse. At one point we had it trapped in the closet; then, using masterful evasive tactics, it escaped over to the dresser. Each time the mouse came into view, we screamed like grown men, and did effectively nothing to trap it or kill it even though we were both armed and dangerous with our brooms.
At almost 1:00 a.m., the treacherous mouse made its way under the bed again. We were beyond tired. We were scared. And we were done. I made Cheyenne get her things and sleep on the couch; we barricaded the door to her room and called it a night. My plan? To starve the thing until it dies. I figure 2, maybe 3 weeks, tops. Pretty genius, right?
I have no idea where in that room the mouse might be. But I do know that it’s in there. Funny–it’s the same spot I once had a terrifying encounter with a South American Chicken Spider. I put wooden boards up against the bottom of the door to make escape impossible; today I will go buy a crud ton of mouse traps and place them strategically throughout the house, just in case. I’m fairly certain it’s just this one mouse, goin’ rogue, and scaring the bejesus out of us.
And for that, it will pay dearly with its life.
Just wait til my husband gets home.