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THE MOUSENING
Oct. 21st, 2010 10:04 pmGODDAMN MOTHERFUCKER!
We have a mouse. A MOUSE. AGAIN.
We had mice in our last place in Christchurch towards the end of our tenancy. It drove me INSANE. They seemed to be coming in through the laundry or bathroom, and hanging around in the kitchen (of course). They were in the pantry, eating our food. They were in our wardrobe, nibbling up the floor. They were IN OUR BEDROOM, BESIDE OUR BED, WHILE WE WERE IN IT SLEEPING, chewing up the wallpaper BESIDE OUR HEADS.
Fuck. Even thinking about it now freaks me out.
I love animals. Especially little fuzzly ones. But I DO NOT WANT them in my house. Eating my food. Pooping on my goddamned kitchen countertops. Last time, we baited traps (with Pineapple Lumps, the eventual successful bait solution), and I cried everytime the telltale SNAP! told us one had gone to mousey heaven with a chocolatey smile on it's face. (I know, for a BITCH I'm such a pathetic sap)
One night, I was going to the bathroom in the dark (you had to go through the kitchen to get to the bathroom), and as I opened the door I hear a trap MOVING across the floor. Dear god, there was a mouse trapped in the trap, NOT DEAD. Himself went to despatch the poor creature and put it out of it's misery, but it managed to escape by tearing it's own trapped little arm off. I was fairly hysterical about it for quite some time - I know I don't want them in my house, and I was just *barely* OK with the thought of the SNAP! being a pretty speedy way for them to die, but DAYS LATER I would think of that sickening noise of the trap scraping across the floor and the pain that poor mouse must have been in and sob my stupid face off.
So. I am NOT going through that shit again. Tomorrow morning, the Letting Agent is getting called and they can send someone round to DO something about it. Which will probably mean doing nothing more than fucking leaving traps, which we could do ourselves, and leaving us to deal with the bodycount.
GAH.
This time, what's even worse is that we have a far more open plan house. There's a door to close off the bedroom from The Mousening, at least - but there are no doors between kitchen/dining/living areas. My paranoia about fires started by mousey chewing on TV cables IS NOT ASSUAGED BY THIS.
*sigh* We did kind of foresee this as being a potential problem, given that when we were moving in and WASHING THINGS because the previous tenants did a fucking pathetic half-assed job of tidying up, we found an ancient (possibly? I'm not shit hot on mouse forensics, call CSI: Tom & Jerry) dessicated mouse carcass behind a heavy piece of furniture. And there are mouse traps (convenient!) in the cupboard above the washing machine. But I really, really naively hoped that the massive globs of expanding foam around the pipes under the sink signified "We Used To Have A Mouse Problem But We Totally Kicked Their Tiny Asses" and we wouldn't need to deal with it. FAIL.
So that's the news for today. Tomorrow, being Friday, is meant to be the day I hear one way or another from Company V as to whether I've been successful in obtaining a job and giving myself a potential future moral dilemma. Hm. I shall keep you posted as and when I hear.
We have a mouse. A MOUSE. AGAIN.
We had mice in our last place in Christchurch towards the end of our tenancy. It drove me INSANE. They seemed to be coming in through the laundry or bathroom, and hanging around in the kitchen (of course). They were in the pantry, eating our food. They were in our wardrobe, nibbling up the floor. They were IN OUR BEDROOM, BESIDE OUR BED, WHILE WE WERE IN IT SLEEPING, chewing up the wallpaper BESIDE OUR HEADS.
Fuck. Even thinking about it now freaks me out.
I love animals. Especially little fuzzly ones. But I DO NOT WANT them in my house. Eating my food. Pooping on my goddamned kitchen countertops. Last time, we baited traps (with Pineapple Lumps, the eventual successful bait solution), and I cried everytime the telltale SNAP! told us one had gone to mousey heaven with a chocolatey smile on it's face. (I know, for a BITCH I'm such a pathetic sap)
One night, I was going to the bathroom in the dark (you had to go through the kitchen to get to the bathroom), and as I opened the door I hear a trap MOVING across the floor. Dear god, there was a mouse trapped in the trap, NOT DEAD. Himself went to despatch the poor creature and put it out of it's misery, but it managed to escape by tearing it's own trapped little arm off. I was fairly hysterical about it for quite some time - I know I don't want them in my house, and I was just *barely* OK with the thought of the SNAP! being a pretty speedy way for them to die, but DAYS LATER I would think of that sickening noise of the trap scraping across the floor and the pain that poor mouse must have been in and sob my stupid face off.
So. I am NOT going through that shit again. Tomorrow morning, the Letting Agent is getting called and they can send someone round to DO something about it. Which will probably mean doing nothing more than fucking leaving traps, which we could do ourselves, and leaving us to deal with the bodycount.
GAH.
This time, what's even worse is that we have a far more open plan house. There's a door to close off the bedroom from The Mousening, at least - but there are no doors between kitchen/dining/living areas. My paranoia about fires started by mousey chewing on TV cables IS NOT ASSUAGED BY THIS.
*sigh* We did kind of foresee this as being a potential problem, given that when we were moving in and WASHING THINGS because the previous tenants did a fucking pathetic half-assed job of tidying up, we found an ancient (possibly? I'm not shit hot on mouse forensics, call CSI: Tom & Jerry) dessicated mouse carcass behind a heavy piece of furniture. And there are mouse traps (convenient!) in the cupboard above the washing machine. But I really, really naively hoped that the massive globs of expanding foam around the pipes under the sink signified "We Used To Have A Mouse Problem But We Totally Kicked Their Tiny Asses" and we wouldn't need to deal with it. FAIL.
So that's the news for today. Tomorrow, being Friday, is meant to be the day I hear one way or another from Company V as to whether I've been successful in obtaining a job and giving myself a potential future moral dilemma. Hm. I shall keep you posted as and when I hear.
