Figure out what to do with the mouse in our laundry room
that is partially stuck to a spider trap full of hobos,
and is flopping around and squeaking.
that is partially stuck to a spider trap full of hobos,
and is flopping around and squeaking.
But I did have it on my list. And to be honest, everything else on my list got completely neglected. Instead of doing the laundry like I planned, I decided to start screaming like a maniac. Then I called Rex 829 times because that's oh so very much more productive than just handling the situation. When he didn't answer either of his phones any of those 829 times, I decided to handle this myself: I called my dad. Unfortunately, he wasn't home.
So, what could I do? I'll tell you.
I just left it there.
But only after some major attempts to psych myself up to take care of it. I found some thick work gloves, rounded up no less than three possible containers to dispose of the mouse, and then totally considered doing something.
Edith was the first adult I saw after discovering the mouse. Looking for sympathy, and using my whiniest voice possible I said, "Eeedith. There's a mouse stuck to our spider trap!"
Her response was a stoic, "Yeah, that happens." She was already over it. When she says yeah, that happens does that mean that happens to her? Often?
Well, in any case I was going to act totally casual too so that I could be in the yeah, that totally happens club instead of belonging to the I'm freaking out and can't handle anything club. It just seemed like a much cooler club.
Because the mouse stayed on the trap all day, I took the necessary precautions: when Andrew's friends came over to play I said, "Andrew shut the laundry room door so that if the mouse gets off the trap, he won't bite your toes."
And then I was supportive when he said, "But there's a space under the door that the mouse can crawl through! We're just going to play upstairs."
Then Rex called and I basically told him to come home right now because I needed help! And he said, though he'd love to, he's going to have to work late tonight.
The man ended up working 14 hours! On mouse day! Really.
But, when he got home, he immediately took care of the mouse. And I finally got to do my laundry.
oh no he di'int. didn't he know it was mouse day?? and the most important day to come home on time? and dad must have forgotten too because that is the very special day when he is suppose to be home. oh jenny, how do these things happen to you? but to be honest, i a little bit wish there was a mouse flopping around in my laundryroom today so i could have a VERY justified reason to avoid it altogether. at least your life isn't boring. every once and a while you need a flopping mouse stuck to hobo spiders to spice things up. (that sentence makes me a little nauseous)
ReplyDeleteI'm not sure if I'm laughing more from your post or Katie's comment. You are both hilarious!
ReplyDeleteThis reminds me a lot of the time when I was about 8 months pregnant with Dallin and I was out mowing the lawn (Peter was out of town) and I ran over a vole (it is small like a mouse but looks more like a mole) Half of the little guy remained intact and the other have became spewed guts everywhere. I stood in shock for a while... I mustered the courage to run inside, get my trusty latex gloves on and a few ziplocs and take care of the bloody mess (in America this is not considered swearing) and that, my friend, was the last time I mowed the lawn.
ReplyDeleteJust be grateful that mice smell a heck of a lot better than skunks!
ReplyDelete