# A super short personal (funny) story.



## The Blue Lotus (Feb 11, 2014)

I don't know if this goes here or elsewhere so to the powers that be feel free to move it if needed.

For context you need to know for the last week I have been locked in a battle of wits and skill with a mouse who has decided my home is his. 
Being that I don't want to kill a living thing I figured it would be like catching the little Shrews that would enter my Grandparent's home when I was a kid. Not that big a deal... Right? 

Read on to see just how wrong I was. Mind you this story takes place after a week of unsuccessfully trying to capture this little guy. 




     I was right the mouse is mocking me.
I have decided to name him since he is sharing my space, after all I can't just yell "Effing MOUSE!" at him and expect him to respond right?

     So yesterday, Husband and I were watching the Olympics thinking about what we wanted for dinner when from the corner of my eye I see him, Mickey, darting across the living room cruising like a supercharged locomotive towards the kitchen. I had had the foresight (read brilliant idea) to block the path between the two rooms with a cardboard box. 
He sees this, and runs under the sofa. Husband jumps up onto his chair and lets out a scream that would make a four year old girl blush and he is clutching the handle of the boom like it is going to save his life. 

     "This is it! I've got you now Mickey" I say loud enough for him (Mickey) to hear me. Hubby gives me a look that I took to mean 'My wife has finally lost what was left of her mind.' I know where he is and he is not getting away from me this time. I grab the fish water jug and shoot husband a look that should make his man bits shrivel up with shame and proceed with an act that at the time seemed brilliant! 

In hindsight, it was an act of sheer "brilliant" stupidity! I grab the edge of the sofa and lift. Our sofa while not very big is very heavy due to the full size hide-a-bed in it. I'm not a big person at just five feet tall I lack upper body strength of any sort... so you can see where this is going! But wait!!!! It gets worse! 

      That's right Mickey is not there! I know he ran under there, and now it is not enough to mock me now you have to start with the magic tricks too?

     I'm mad, husband is useless and I no longer have any sense of "common sense" I flip the sofa over, all 300-400 lbs of, it just BLOOP. Where did he go? The husband finally gets off the chair, probably a good thing because it is a cheap cardboard folding chair from Wallyworld... On his face is a look that can only be described as dumbfounded, perhaps confuzzelment. 
     I look closer at the mess I have just made and realize he could only have gone one place. UP! Mickey is in my sofa frame. Oh frick!!! and Yuck! 

I send the husband to grab me some supplies, "I need expanding foam, my vintage 1986 AquaNet Hair spray," you know the kind that leaves a thick choking cloud when sprayed. I'm barking orders for items like a three star general to a platoon of plebes. He resents me for this, I don't care this ends NOW! Mickey is being evicted.
 "Aluminum foil, broom, pitcher, hair spray, expanding foam, shoes, peanut butter jar, stapler, towel, material from the pile of fabric in the closet, hammer and nails; NOW!!!!!!!!!!!"
     I wait, I'm sitting there on the towel waiting... At last a nose! I see you Mickey I think to myself. I have hubby start pounding on the side of the sofa, I'll chase him out. I think. He does not emerge, hubby stops saying his hand hurts..."WUSS!"

     I wait some more, Mickey noses out and I try to trap his head under the dustpan. No dice. It is time for the big gun. "Hair spray! I'll smoke and choke him out!" I spray until I myself can't breath... I wait, figuring he will have to come out now... That's when I see him, on the other side of the sofa frame! How did he get there I wonder? I looked, there were no places where the two connect that I can't see. Ok, fine, "it's time to get down and dirty buster!" I have hubby remove the cushions and extend the bed as far as it will go in this position. "Try that again Mickey I dare you!" I say laughing maniacally. More hair spray this time where he was last spotted opposite the still hanging cloud where I had started. Hubby resumes banging the side, adding shaking the frame for good measure. 

     NOTHING!

 "Are you kidding me Mickey? Did you find a Mouse sized gas mask somewhere?" Ok, fine, I can't scare him out, I can't shake him out and I can't smoke him out. I'll fix his little red wagon! I tell myself.

     "Hand me the material! Hold this end here." I grab the stapler and begin the process of closing off his vertical escape route. "Foam and foil" I demand. I cut and measure the foil and make a box that he can't get out of, without my hearing him. I use the foam like glue making my attachments where I need them. I placed the peanut butter jar just out of Mickey's safe reach and fan the odor in his direction. Waiting, waiting... 

Nothing. By now I've spent four hours on this project. My head hurts, I can't breath because my lungs are full of Aquanet and my hand is covered in copious amounts of sticky foam glue. 
    I staple the remainder of the material around the bottom of the sofa, leaving only a small Mickey sized opening lined with foil. When he leaves we will hear him, and I can place the last nail over his hiding place. MAHAHAHHAHAHA! I roll the sofa over after running the vacuum, my back hurts. Perfect Just perfect! I think to myself.
     I hear crinkling and watch, no Mickey, I can hear him, but he has not left the safety of the sofa yet. I need medication for my back, it hurts. I take my meds, shower and lay down on Mickey's hiding spot content that at least I have solved one of my problems with him. 

     Husband lets out a scream a few hours later. Mickey has been spotted. Time for me to work again. I lift the sofa to place the final nail and lay down again. I have no strength left. "Mickey, prepare for round two tomorrow." I tell him as fatigue overcomes me and I wait for the sweet release of sleep that my drugs are sure to provide, along with powerful nausea. However, I'll take the upset tummy over the fire in my spine any day of the week!

     Hubby, just as I start to fall asleep decides to tell me how stupid it was to "move the sofa like that." "One of us has to be the man, obviously it is not you!" I bark at him harsher than I mean to, but meaning every last venom laced word of it. 

To be continued...
_ 

I hate to say it, but MICKEY won that round.

For some reason the spacing is all wonky and I can't seem to fix it sorry.



















_


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## Aidan of the tavern (Feb 11, 2014)

So that's where you've been lately .  I look forward to part 2.


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## The Blue Lotus (Feb 11, 2014)

Aidan of the tavern said:


> So that's where you've been lately .  I look forward to part 2.


I have been doing other things here of late. I missed you guys so I thought I'd drop in and share my Mouse tales (Tails) with y'all.
How you been Aidan?


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## Aidan of the tavern (Feb 11, 2014)

The Blue Lotus said:


> I have been doing other things here of late. I missed you guys so I thought I'd drop in and share my Mouse tales (Tails) with y'all.
> How you been Aidan?



I'm doing good, thanks for asking.  Currently working on turning this whole writing thing into a degree now .


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## The Blue Lotus (Feb 11, 2014)

A degree in what exactly darling?

At any rate, all the best of luck in that.  
Chat with ya soon.
Hugz!


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## The Blue Lotus (Feb 11, 2014)

Aidan of the tavern said:


> I'm doing good, thanks for asking.  Currently working on turning this whole writing thing into a degree now .



Darling, it helps if you clean out your mailbox so people can send you mail!


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## The Blue Lotus (Feb 28, 2014)

*Mouse tales (Tails) pt. 2*

I'm a little behind in updating this, but here ya go.

Week Three…

Mickey mocks me without mercy, he laughs at my failures and has taken a more personal  interest in this mockery, I dropped a plate of food as I was serving dinner and I swear I heard “HAHAHAHA, what a blond! Thanks for the snack!”

Husband has avoided the whole situation save to say I need to call in professional reinforcements. 
Gee, ya think? I stop myself before the snide thought leaves my lips, but only just barely.
Defeated, I make the call. After I hang up the phone I turn to the corner, I can’t reach where I know he is hiding, behind a desk that took four grown strapping men to put in place and say, “Mickey it’s been a blast, but your eviction notice is now formally served!” 
I hear scratching in reply, which I think translates to, “good luck with that,” or perhaps it means, “Bite me!”  I can’t be sure anymore.

Three days it takes the bug man to arrive, my house is a mess, I’ve pulled everything from lower cabinets in an effort to starve out Mickey. The Bug man’s eyes are wide as he enters my normally spotless home, I feel ashamed. Strangers are not my thing, strangers seeing my house as less than, let's just say that really irks me.

He finds several places where things have worsened. Mickey has chewed through the icemaker’s water line. Not enough to cause a flood, but a slow drip to quench his thirst, it has damaged the drywall behind the fridge. 
I sniff, near tears at this point, my shame growing as he continues. He finds the hole where Mickey has entered, and begins checking off boxes on his list. What do they say? I don’t know, but if forced to hazard a guess I’d say they read something to the tune of “resident’s abode is sloppy, water damage went unnoticed for how long? Only god knows by the looks of it.” Finally, he lays out some glue traps and leaves. I exhale for what seems like this first time in half an hour.

The Husband asks, “How long will it take to catch him?”

“I don’t know ask the mouse!” I am irritated; this whole situation makes me gag. I hate mice! I will never be able to watch Cinderella again!!!!

I begin the long pointless process of trying to bring order to the chaos that is my countertops, upper shelves and tabletops. My Grandmother’s voice in my ears, “If you can reach it so can they.”

Later that night I see him, Mickey, running across the living room like a supped up locomotive. He stops for half a step and looks at me and I swear he winked in that half step pause. I dive off the dining room chair, midair I figure out that I’ve no way of catching him of course, so why am I doing this? Too late did this thought occur, I smash my head into the floor. Carpeting is not nearly as plush as one would think or like in apartments. Trust me on this. 
Mickey scurries off and disappears under the fridge, Husband looks at me, I can hear his thoughts from the floor as I lay some five feet below him, "She needs a straight jacket!" 

No, I don't belong in a room with rubber wallpaper thank you so very much; now help me up! UGh. Again I manage to restrain myself and keep quiet. However, I'm sure my eyes and face were very apt at expressing my feeling on the topic. At least he did not laugh at me... I guess that counts for something. 


It is late, so we head to bed, I'm picking up anything food-like as I go. I even put the spare tubes of toothpaste on the highest shelf I can reach! Tomorrow or the day after maintenance should come to plug the hole Mickey has been using as his own personal expressway and fix the leak in the water line. “Die you little rat bastard!” Is my final thought as I drift off to sleep.


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## ThinkerX (Feb 28, 2014)

You do realize that it is very possibly not just 'Mickey' singular, but 'Mickey and family' (plural)?

Have you considered ye olde fashioned mouse traps yet, or are you still determined to 'take him alive'?


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## A. E. Lowan (Mar 1, 2014)

This is our mouse control team - 








Of course, it's worth noting that they're all just as fat as the mice.  My usual policy is to let the big Siamese, Perseus, get them into the bathtub to play with them, and then take them away from him so I can escort them from the premises.  It's also worth noting that I don't think he's actually ever killed a mouse.  The other two, Thor and Loki, are still kittens, so only time will tell.

And, Lotus, you're REALLY not going to want to hear this, but I spend the warm months listening to our mice drag race across the ceiling.  Of course, we live in the woods, so maybe that's a location issue.


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## ThinkerX (Mar 1, 2014)

Strange. My mouse control team bears a strong resemblance to AE Lowan's.

And like that team, they're not that good at their job.  More of a 'cool, it moves' type approach.


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## buyjupiter (Mar 1, 2014)

A. E. Lowan said:


> Of course, it's worth noting that they're all just as fat as the mice.  My usual policy is to let the big Siamese, Perseus, get them into the bathtub to play with them, and then take them away from him so I can escort them from the premises.  It's also worth noting that I don't think he's actually ever killed a mouse.  The other two, Thor and Loki, are still kittens, so only time will tell.
> 
> And, Lotus, you're REALLY not going to want to hear this, but I spend the warm months listening to our mice drag race across the ceiling.  Of course, we live in the woods, so maybe that's a location issue.



I swear that flame point looks just like my flame point, Aodhan. But all flame points look pretty much alike, don't they? 

What a cute bunch of kitties, Lowan!


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## The Blue Lotus (Mar 2, 2014)

ThinkerX said:


> You do realize that it is very possibly not just 'Mickey' singular, but 'Mickey and family' (plural)?
> 
> Have you considered ye olde fashioned mouse traps yet, or are you still determined to 'take him alive'?



I did mention on the second posting that I called in a pro who laid out glue traps. I gave up on taking him or them alive about the time I flipped over the sofa and messed my back up again. 

I need to update with another post soon. It is a family, of this I am sure now.


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## The Blue Lotus (Mar 2, 2014)

A. E. Lowan said:


> And, Lotus, you're REALLY not going to want to hear this, but I spend the warm months listening to our mice drag race across the ceiling.  Of course, we live in the woods, so maybe that's a location issue.



When I lived in FL mice, and rats and bats and roaches were just a apart of living in such a tropical area. Where I grew up however if you had mice rats bats or anything not invited in as a pet it was because you were a dirty person... Old habits die hard I guess. I'm not dirty nor is my home but since these critters have moved in I _feel_ gross. I also _feel_ as if I have failed as a woman and a wife. Yes I know it is a tad nuts to say that, it is what it is.

Drag racing huh? Paint some numbers on them and take bets!  If they are going to stay might as well make them earn their keep


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## ThinkerX (Mar 3, 2014)

Big concern with mice (to me, anyhow) is the wiring.  Mice like munching on the romex insulation (romex being the common wire used in houses).  Getting into short circuit, even possible fire hazard territory.

By 'traps', I meant the old spring loaded mouse traps - lethal and effective.

Your dog doesn't go after the mice?  Or is he in the 'cool, they move', camp?


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## The Blue Lotus (Mar 3, 2014)

No I have a small dog that spring trap is a nice way to amputate his foot! 
As for my dog going after mice, yeah... No. He can be laying there and one will pass by him a foot from his face and he rolls his eyes up to look at me like "Oh? Yeah, whatever." that is the first time it happens. Later, if  the same thing happens he looks at it like "Yo, waz suppp?" 

So sad.... I need a cat, but husband is scared of cats. >.>


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## The Blue Lotus (Mar 9, 2014)

*Mouse tales (Tails) pt. 3*

Week four.

I caught one of them! Ha ha! I was watching TV with husband in the bedroom when he decided he wanted a drink of water. The bug man stopped by with some glue traps, lots of them. He put them in strange places and the maintenance men swung around and fixed the water line. They used a wire wrapped one so the Mickey mice can't chew it up again.  Shortly after the husband got up, he came running back in, babbling about I need to get up and see something. So I leave the warmth of my electric blanket to see what the fuss is about. There in the middle of the kitchen floor is a glue trap and it is screeching. My heart started beating very fast as I realized what the husband was so worked up over. The trap had captured one of our furry "roommates". I feel bad, I know I can't get him out of it because his head is stuck near his bum, and he is firmly stuck in there and trying very hard to get out of the predicament he's found himself in.  

I ask the husband to get the broom and dust pan, our dog is flipping out at the sad, frantic, pitiful sounds coming from the little white box in the kitchen. The husband takes the dog to his bed and locks him in so he won't be injured should Mickey find freedom and hands me the broom as he holds the dust pan. 
I'm standing there at 2 am holding this contorted mouse stuck to a glue covered box and I feel the overwhelming need to tell him or her how very sorry I am for what I'm about to do. 

I look him in the one eye I can see, "I'm sorry buddy, but you are just not welcome here. I tried to catch you in a way that you could live, but you would not cooperate. Now you will have to die and that sucks for us both. I'm so sorry." 


The husband puts his arm around my shoulder, "That was nice of you." he says, as tears begin to slide down my cheek. He brushes one away, and asks, "Do you want me to take it outside?" 

"Please?"

He opens the trash bag he grabbed during my little chat with this little gray mouse and I dump him in as gently as I can. The husband puts on his coat and shoes as I tie the bag shut. He takes the bag and asks me "will it die quickly?"

"I think so, it is seven degrees outside, he should go into hypothermia fairly quickly." 

"Ok, good, I don't want it to suffer unnecessarily. I'll be right back." He gives me a small nod as if to say, it's ok, I got this, you go and collect yourself.

I head to the bathroom and put away the broom and dust pan, wash my hands and my face. I feel awful being responsible for the death of that rather cute little mouse, who fought so hard to free himself while making those pitiful cheeping sounds. 

Once the husband returns, he washes his hands and gives me a bear hug. As irritating as the whole mouse situation has been for us both in this moment we reconnect in our shared sense of sadness and triumph. 

Oddly enough the mouse hunt has forced us to grow closer together. I think for him it has given him a look inside the person I work very hard to hide. The one who cries for dead birds and would rescue every stray if I could. And in him I found a reassuring strength I did not know he had. If he cares enough to hug me because I killed a mouse. I can overlook the fact that he climbs on chairs and screams like a chick when he sees a mouse.


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