We live in the middle of barley, hay, and wheat. When I wake up and look out my window we see what beer looks like before it’s in the glass. We also see deer, field mice, hawks, owls, foxes, wolves, badgers-I think you’re getting the gist of it. We see nature. Every day we go out and it’s a national geographic channel episode. I like going outside to see nature. So imagine my horror when nature decided to visit me.
When the temperatures dropped below zero last week mice decided to move in with us. I could hear them, but never see them. My husband insisted he couldn’t hear them. Then one day I’m in the basement writing and I can hear the mouse like it’s in the room. I hear a noise, walk to the sound and it goes silent. For two hours this is the routine. He’s going to think I’m crazy, but I have to ask him for help. No lying, he found the mouse in 30 seconds.
I posted the picture on facebook and potential solutions abounded. Some of them prompted further humorous discussions and the one that was immediately implemented: “I use electronic mouse traps you can get them at the farm supply store in a nearby town.” The person who made the suggestion is one of those say what you mean and mean what you say types. So when she says something I pay attention because she will not belabor the issue if it isn’t necessary.
The husband went to the store with me. There was sticky pads, poison, the old school snap off their head mousetraps and (dun dun da) the electronic mouse trap. Wisdom spoke to me via facebook and I knew what I wanted to purchase. Conversely, my husband is a secondary facebook reader. He reads what I show him-otherwise he’s not interested. Ergo, he didn’t know the voice of experience has spoken to me in a one sentence response. He bought the old school traps I bought the electronic mouse trap.
That night I put out the electronic traps. The next morning nothing. I saw that the battery indicator light was working. I picked up the trap-no dead mouse. Bummer. All day I perseverated about the mouse. My husband had grown tired of me yelling obscene mafia rants at the walls and declared his readiness to implement the old school traps.
It says “pre baited.” The teacher in me wants to point out the grammar error. They used it as a noun. What they meant to say was it needs to be pre baited as in verb. That prompted a discussion. These mice like barley. I know, one got into my pantry and left a trail. How do you put that on these uber sensitive traps without losing a finger. So now we’re trying to figure out a way to make the barley stick when I get the brilliant idea to show my husband what I did in the electronic trap.
I about fainted. When I picked up the trap it felt empty. When I opened the trap we learned that it was not. Apparently that indicator light meant there was a dead mouse in the house. I danced and sang (Beyonce’s got nothing on me) Crystal was right, Crystal was right! The husband was so happy he didn’t have to go old school he was ready to sing with me.
That nursery rhyme “Three Blind Mice,” has taken on a whole new meaning. Until the next adventure, that will be my theme song. Mwhahahahahaha
Categories: Blogroll, Small Town Living
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