A Hard Day’s Night

January 3, 2008 at 10:40 am (Dating, Fauna Files)

Yesterday was difficult for many reasons.  Of course, I am dealing with the shock of lost romance in my usual mercurial fashion.  One moment I am extremely rational, practical, and even sort of happy, and the next moment I am crying into my 0-point vegetable soup in the staff kitchen.  (It’s quite easy to feel sorry for oneself when faced with a steaming bowl of fat-free gruel).

After work I asked Superfudge to help me mouseproof my place.  As soon as she walked into the apartment, she ordered me to leave.  Apparently there was a mouse in one of the traps.   I stood in the hallway, making small talk with my neighbors while Superfudge examined every outlet, baseboard, and corner with a flashlight, checking for holes that might let in mice.  I learned that everyone in the building is having mouse woes, and that everyone else is nonchalant about it.  One neighbor’s solution was to get a cat.  Another’s was to let her husband deal with it.  (Ah, there’s the true cost of singlehood: no husband to deal with the mice!)

Superfudge assured me that all was well.  She blocked up some gaps around the kitchen pipe, but other than that, there were no entry points for mice other than my two front doors.  She laid out more poison, and I felt confident that it would be a peaceful night.

I was mistaken.

While I was on the phone with TragicCrusade, I heard my neighbors across the hall banging and yelling, and then I heard something scurry into my apartment.  (Solution #3 of dealing with mice: send them into your neighbor’s home!)  I tried to put it out of my mind during the phone call.  After a few hours of intense and tearful conversation, I eventually had to call it a night and get some sleep–as much sleep as can be had with all the lights on and the television blaring Law and Order. 

It became clear that the mice were intimidated by neither Van Buren nor McCoy, because I heard a steady patter of scrabbling along the wall between the front door and the window.  The mice decided to use the back of the bookcases as their highway.  Throughout the night I heard crunching of poison pellets.  By early morning, the scratching and nibbling were punctuated by squeaks as I cowered in bed, with no companion save Abject Terror.

I have never in my life been so happy to hear to alarm go off in the morning.

Today I am going to the Home Despot to get strips for the bottom of my door. 


  1. Ten Feet of Steel said,

    The hell with a man–they make substandard mousers–where is the landlord/management company in all of this? It sounds like the building needs a coordinated devermination by a team of professionals.

  2. Quiconque said,

    I agree, and I have written the management company a letter, and will be calling them later this afternoon.

  3. ashyknees said,

    Yes, it’s time to get medieval on some mice asses.

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