Tuesday, September 17, 2013

This means war.

Yes, there is a war going on in my house.

See this contraption here?

It's good for nothin' ... I tell ya' ... good for NOTHIN'.

For almost a month now, I have been unable to use my downstairs bathroom.

"Why?" You ask.

Well ... I discovered droppings {ew.} left behind by Mr. Stuart Little himself in the vanity cabinet.

I was immediately grossed out and Beau and I devised a plan to get rid of the varmint. Simple mouse trap seemed logical, right? WRONG.

This mouse truly is a crafty little thing.

This mouse has escaped death four times. Count 'em ... FOUR times.

He has eaten a piece of cheese and 3 mounds of peanut butter without tripping this trap. I mean licked the trap clean!

And, get this ... 

This last time, not only did he lick it clean, he pooped right in the center of the trap where his tiny little head or body should be snapped in half. That little punk! I'm pretty sure it was his way of thumbing his nose at us.

Not only is it simply disgusting that he is in my downstairs bathroom, but I am now unable to use this bathroom, which means running upstairs any time I have to go. How inconvenient.

Of course, Beau doesn't understand why I can't just use it.

Well, duh ... what if that mouse comes out while I'm on the toilet and runs by my feet or worse yet is taking a little swim in the toilet as I go. Oh gosh. That is terrifying!

So ... here we go with round 5. This mouse is getting fat, hopefully fat enough to trip this trap. Otherwise, I may have to revert to the sticky traps, which really gross me out even more. I do not want to hear a squealing mouse struggling for his life for hours. No siree ... I'd like that sucker just swiftly chopped in half the humane way.

I'll keep you posted on when I can tinkle in my own bathroom again in peace.