I thought we were done with this. I thought it was enough with Mousegate 2010 parts 1 and 2, but no. I got too comfortable. I let my guard down.
I won't make that mistake again.
So it started off on Friday. I was cleaning the bathrooms, as is our normal routine on Fridays so we can avoid cleaning on Saturday and Sunday. I was being productive. T was on his way home, so I wanted to surprise him with a clean bathroom, except ours smelled like bleach after I was done. So I went into my kitchen to get a lighter to light a candle. The kitchen light was on. I had been in and out of the kitchen all afternoon. Little did I know it was there.
Then I saw it. Right by my kitchen sink, behind our canisters. A flash of gray. I froze in my spot. Shit. Not again. As quietly as possible, I reached to my left for my phone. I hit speed dial and called T. I knew he was on his way home, as we had just gotten off the phone about 10 minutes earlier. Not sure why I called him. He couldn't kill the mouse from his car, but...as soon as I hit "send" and he answered, Darrell (The name I chose for him. He was the cousin of Damian, the little shit that was in our kitchen in 2010.) ran out from behind the canisters. T goes "hello?" And then I start screaming. "It's in here! It's in here! Oh my God, it's in the house! T thought a burglar was in the house or something, and by the time I finished hyperventilating, the little thing had crawled under our burner under the stove.
About 20 minutes later, T pulled in the driveway as I stood frozen in the spot. I was going to get him if he dared come out. We popped open the stove top and we could hear him scurrying about underneath. He was toying with us. Occasionally, we saw a whisker or two peak through the holes in the stove top, as I screamed, standing poised with my trusty frying pan, ready to play whack-a-mole with the thing if it popped up enough. T got out some of the traps we had leftover before, and set those ready to get him if he came out while we left for Home Depot to get more traps.
While we were gone, Darrell had the balls to come out and eat the peanut butter from the nearest trap without setting it off and hide again. He was messing with us. I didn't like that. So we set up seven (yes, seven) traps. Two on the stove. Surely we were going to catch him. This one was gutsy to show himself in broad daylight like that. (And scare the living crap out of me in the process.)
I'm happy to say we did catch him that night. But sadly, I don't think he is the only one. We now have mousetraps in our pantry and on our counter. This is unfortunately our reality until we move in May. It can't come soon enough.
So to quote the words of Samuel L. Jackson..."I'm tired of these mother f#@%ing mice in this mother f#%#ing house!