meimichan | Oh fuck, GROSS

I was surfing the net (http://rateyourstudents.blogspot.com Josh, I think you'd enjoy this one), and slowly about to fall asleep, when I hear plastic rustle. I assume it's the heater vent. Then the rustling keeps going, and gets more frantic.

Fuck.

I turn on the light and look in the garbage can. Yep. There's a FUCKING MOUSE IN THE FUCKING GARBAGE CAN. And I am traumatized. I woke up Jason, because god knows I'M not getting any closer to the goddamn thing. I'm too busy freaking out and trying to keep food in my stomach because GROSS!!! I keep cats as pets for a fucking reason people, and a side benefit is because I would THROW the cat at the mouse. Unfortunately Luke, the Peacock Road house cat and killer of two mice in the past couple of weeks, is shut in with his owner for the night. He's not allowed in Jason's room because of his allergies, but fuck, I think exceptions would be made for vermin. (Side note, Luke is one of the friendliest, most skittish, cats I've come across. Leilani, his owner, was really surprised to find out he was killing/playing with any mice dumb enough to cross his path instead of running away from them. Maybe she'll get her rent reduced?)

I am so fucking grossed out, and very much in the mood for chemical warfare. Vermin do not belong in my fucking house without my fucking express invitation. Or anywhere I happen to be staying.

We found one "humane" trap and set it. And seriously, humane? There's a fucking mouse in here! I want the little piece of shit DEAD. It'll just come crawling back inside otherwise!

I'm not going to be able to sleep at all tonight. Every noise I hear is going to wake me up thinking it's a mouse.

I am suddenly missing Montville...well, my welcome usually wears out kinda fast here anyways.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Aw. Dude. I feel ya. The house that I lived in before this one had mice--and when I say had I mean completely and utterly infested, and they were as big as small rats. Sometimes whole families of them would troop across the floor only feet from me. Once, a mouse somehow got into my dogfood bin, and when I stuck my hand in to get Malek his food, it ran UP MY ARM. Scariest thing ever.

Just be glad they're not shitting in your bed. You definitely want to set those traps, though, because the little bastards breed like... well, like mice. Which is to say, at a rate that should not be possible, but, somehow, is.

UGH UGH UGH.

I don't live here. I'm just a guest.

A guest who plans to run far far away to a place that doesn't have fucking mice.

And oh my god, one running up your arm, how the fuck did you not scream?

I did scream. And scream, and scream, and scream.

It probably would have been funny if it wasn't so fucking disgusting.

I am so squicked out on your behalf right now. *margaritas*

My house has an ongoing mouse problem, even with four cats. Mom bought one of those humane traps, and one mouse was caught in it and released outside. There has not been another one caught since. There is another mouse that gets into the trap, eats the peanut butter bait, climbs out and moves the trap, as if it wants to let us know it has been there. Poison is starting to look like a good idea.

We bought mouse traps designed to kill the little fuckers. The cashier was looking at them, and at first I thought she was going to make a comment in the negative, but then she said she'd been having a mouse problem too, and hadn't tried the traps she'd had. She had tried poison. The mouse would eat the poison, which came in a large green block form, but it took about a week to kill the thing off. So in the meantime, she kept finding green poop across the floor.

God, yuck.

I may not be able to stay employed with a chemistry degree, but I bet I could concoct something to kill a mouse within minutes of consumption.

Oh fuck, GROSS

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