Mom vs Mouse: Day Two
Here it is just past midnight and a few minutes into Saturday morning. My goal of posting daily has officially been shot down upon my second real post. Which brings me to Thursday’s post about my furry friend Pierre – the house mouse squatter. It was only yesterday (it still feels like Thursday is yesterday so just bear with me) I battled with Pierre at 5 in the morning.
Two mousetraps, cheese and birdseed bait, and much frustration later it’s been a two days since I have seen my furry friend. He disappeared sometime mid-morning on Thursday. All stayed quiet through the remainder of Thursday and most of today (Friday). Until a few minutes ago.
Yet again the little beast chooses to wait until I am stressed to my last nerve before popping around to let me know he’s still stalking the household. I was mentally preparing today’s blog about the stress of having a tween and teen, both girls, living in the same house. Between their typical drama (which reached heights exceeding the entire soap opera industry today), I dealt with a hyperactive pre-schooler that is too smart for my own good. It’s probably fine for her own good, but I can foresee her dancing circles around me by the time she makes it to the teen years. Heaven help me now.
After surviving the two girls getting to the point of strangulation with one another, neither completing their daily chores, the pre-schooler finding a new obsession with balloons that go POW! when you pop them (this happening repeatedly), a husband who had a bad day, an aunt who broke her ankle, and the oldest stepson (OSS) dropping in at the last minute with his former girlfriend who is back as his girlfriend because she got pregnant with what they think is his daughter who also came and is adorable, and feeding all these crazy people a decent meal… I was ready for a long hot shower, a quick blog and good book. Not so fast.
Before I can say “hot water”, my oldest stepdaughter (OSD) has a meltdown of Three-Mile Island proportions. Let’s just say bad day at work for DH now equals bad evening at home for OSD. And more stress for me, because really, is anyone ever calm after the firestorm? Nah, didn’t think so.
OSS then calls back. He’s at his apartment that he shares part of the time with the girlfriend and their daughter but also apparently his mother (DH’s EX) although she also lives part of the time a couple of cities away with her boyfriend that nobody claims is her boyfriend but is the same place that OSS lives when he’s not living in our town with the girlfriend. Got that? Don’t worry, I stay confused too.
So OSS was in the dark – literally. He said they had to catch up on the power but his mother didn’t pay her part before she went to jail (she has more tales for titillating posts than this place has room) so now they are stuck with no power. Well, they could have power if they had the nearly $1000 it will take to turn it back on again. Don’t even ask. He asked if he could come spend the night with us, since his girlfriend went to her parents’ house to spend the night. One former bedroom, waiting and ready.
By that time, I am living the brief sanity a shower will bring because I dare DH to join me. He will get the pleasure of holding down peace in the Middle East while I take a shower, thank you very much. If I can do it for the 12 hours he is at work, he can do it for the 30 minutes it takes me to shower. Until, that is, Pierre makes an appearance. Everyone is getting settled down for the night, when pitter-pitter-pat his four little paws scurry across the floor of our living room and into DD’s bedroom. I guess he fears a pre-schooler the least – oh little does he know. I think we’ve already established he’s not the smartest mouse yesterday, but this was the final exclamation point of stupidity. It would have only been worse had he run towards the fire-breathing drama teen OSD.
So, mousetrap is now moved and placed in a place that is hopefully pre-schooler proof. Yeah right, in my dreams, and all that. It’s freshly baited. It’s got a trail of breadcrumbs (not too much, not too little but juuust right for little Goldimouse). I am waiting. And yet, I still watch my door carefully because I have this odd feeling he will manage to eat his little delights, avoid capture and come mock me yet again outside my door.
Have I mentioned how much I hate mice?
I hate cats, but I hate rodents more.
I think I need a cat.