However, this week has showed me that I am not, repeat NOT, prepared for this.
I am not a country girl.
So you may be asking yourself how I've come to this realization. Well, friends, settle in as I tell you about the adventure that I've had this past week.
Over the last few weeks, I've been seeing little mouse droppings all over my house, mostly in the kitchen cabinet below my sink. I went to the Walmart, got myself a little trap, the kind that is a box that the mice are supposed to crawl into and get stuck in, put it where the majority of the poop was, and forgot about it.
Until Monday night. Well, really, Tuesday morning. Around 4 am, I wake up to the scratch scratch scratching of a little animal in my room. Paper rustling, scratch, scratch, scratching. I bolt straight up in the bed, freaking out. Turn on the light, throw on my glasses, look around. Keep hearing the little patter of tiny feet and scratch scratch scratch around my room, but don't see anything. Naturally, my heart is racing. What is this? It's clearly a monster, ready to attack. I am terrified to get off of the bed or go back to sleep. So I lay there, on alert, for hours until it's time for school.
That afternoon, I go to the local hardware store and ask for some help. I've got to take down these mice. They suggested a trap similar to the one I'd gotten before. Well when I checked that morning, I noticed the mice had eaten the bait out and just left some little presents inside. At least that meant they were small enough to fit inside it? Anyway, that wasn't going to work. So hardware man #1 tells me to try the little glue traps. He says that's what he uses and it'll be fine. So I go home, set it out, and wait.
Around 7:00, just 30 minutes before I'm supposed to be online for my first group supervision web conference for my Internship classes, I hear some banging around in the cabinet. I hesitantly go check, using a broom handle to open up the cabinet. (Yes, I am a baby.) Sure enough, the thumping was the little mouse. At least he was little, and kind of cute. Still terrifying. At this point, I'll let you know that this was probably the first mouse I have ever seen in person outside of a pet store or the zoo. So I'm staring at this mouse, wondering what on earth I'm going to do now. He's wiggling around trying to get off the trap, pathetically breaking my heart. I text my friends, freaking out, and find out that no one can come over to help for at least an hour or two. Shit. I have to deal with it on my own. I started towards him several times, to at least take him outside or something, but always backed up out of fear. A friend tells me to think of him as one of the mice from Cinderella, to calm my irrational fear of this tiny little creature. All that does is cause me to start calling him Gus Gus.
Meanwhile, I have my computer set up in the living room and am running back and forth to pay attention to my web conference as best I can while still keeping an eye on Gus. During my freak out, he wobbles himself back and forth, slowly moving the trap a distance of about a foot and a half towards the pipes that run under the sink, doing all he can to free himself. At some point while I'm out of the room, he frees his front arms, and launches himself over one of the pipes, using leverage to try to pull his back legs free. Gus is a genius. I realized what he was doing and knew I had to get him away from those pipes. I tried to grab him, but panicked before I could get too close. I had the genius idea to take a cheap plastic serving spoon and use that to deal with him. Took the mouse spoon, tried to scoop him back my way over the pipe and pull him away. Nope, because Gus is apparently might mouse. He didn't budge. Ultimately, he ended up pulling himself off while I was out of the room and leaving his little tail behind. Damnit Gus.
I moved the trap back to where it was, finished my conference, put some peppermint oil in the cabinet (I've read that they don't like that) and tried to sleep. To no avail. In the morning when I checked, he'd taken back his tail (it wasn't on the trap...) and slammed the glue trap upside down against one of the pipes, a big "screw you, you can't get me" to me! Little booger!
So Wednesday afternoon, I go back to the hardware store, determined to get rid of Gus Gus and his friends for good. (I know he has friends because I heard them scratching away while he was on the trap.) I bought the snap traps this time, determined that I am going to kill them and get them out quickly. Hardware man #s 2 and 3 help me learn how to set a trap and the best way to use it. All while laughing at my inability to deal with this mice problem of course.
Go home, set the trap, and wait.
Not 30 minutes later, boom! Got em! Went to check, and see that it is in fact not Gus, as this one has a tail sticking out from under the trap. Determine that I'm going to have to get him out and dispose of him myself, as it's only 4:30 and no one's husbands were off work to help me yet. Took my handy dandy mouse spoon and decided I'd scrape him onto a paper plate to carry him to the trash. I wasn't prepared though for when I flipped the trap over. If you've ever seen a dead mouse in a trap, you know. I'm scraping him up, and all of a sudden I flip it over and his little face is there, tongue hanging out, eyes bulging. Naturally, I scream and drop him. I cried for a bit, pulled myself together, and got him out of the house. One down. Reset the trap. Went to bed.
In the morning, I checked right before school, and found another one. Dead. Two down.
Went back to the hardware store for more traps. Hardware men #s 4 and 5 help me out. By this point the whole store knows me.
Reset the trap, don't hear anything snap, but I know they're there. Still scratch scratch scratching around with their little paws.
Check Friday morning, and they've licked the peanut butter clear out of the bait part of the trap. Without the trap going off. And as always, left some poop just to show me they've been there. These mice are too smart.
At this point, I've about given up. I can't get a cat because I'm allergic, and it makes me sad to think about an outside cat when it gets cold. I've been told to stuff some steel wool down in their hole so that they can't get in or chew through it, so I'm going to go try that as soon as I finish this post. Other than that, I'm at a loss. Any ideas?
If you've made it all the way through, I appreciate your patience. At least it's kind of a funny story! This whole experience has taught me that I am much more high maintenance and less bad-ass than I have always viewed myself. Living alone in the country is definitely a big adjustment. I am definitely more of a city girl than I've ever imagined. I also hate living alone and dealing with this by myself. But, I'm learning, I'm pulling myself together, and each little victory (learning to set a trap, cleaning up after two dead mice) is making me feel just a little more independent and a little more capable of living out in Middle of Nowhere. I am definitely going to make it. And Gus is going down!
-Sarah
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