I keep telling myself it’s better than pantry moths (eek!) and better by far than bedbugs (oy!), but… MICE.
Ugh.
Every night, I am out here ‘till all hours and they get more and more bold with each passing night.
The chewing noises!
The squeaking noises!
I start feeling paranoid, like I’m seeing something out of the corner of my eye that I don’t want to see. Except I know it’s real, so I turn away before I can see.
We are like ships passing in the night, these mice and I – they scuttle away as I glide through the kitchen in my shoes so as not to get my toes accidentally trod upon.
I have seen a couple in the past year, along with other evidence. Ted used to catch some in his 
traps, but I suspect the ones that are left are the smart ones that don’t like peanut butter. Last night, he sprinkled the peanut butter with bulgur and killed one for a change. I knew they like bulgur because it was one of the only two food things they’d gotten into. (well, since they ate almost a whole bag of wheat gluten – and that stuff’s not cheap!)
I feel like we’re in some kind of “little house on the prairie” frontier scenario (man vs nature!) instead of in a big urban metropolis.
If YM wasn’t totally allergic, we could borrow somebody’s cat.
p.s. I just heard the most terrible SNAP from the kitchen… one of the traps went off. :-o
The only thing that worked when we were overrun with mice was to put those little trays of mouse poison in the cupboards, and in the garage and the crawl space under the house where they were nesting. One day I even opened the coat closet and found a mouse running across the tops of our coats!!! BLEAH! :)
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