If you give a mouse a cookie ...

Thanks to my unruly eyebrow hair, I decided to wear my glasses today because the frames are thick enough to somewhat camouflage the hair plugs I’m apparently harvesting for future use. I was also running extremely late this morning because I kept hitting snooze on my alarm clock so I could finish my dream about the world’s greatest curling iron, leaving me no time for make-up or hair brushing. Needless to say, Tuesday, May 17th, 2011 will not go down in history as my cutest day ever … but perhaps as my hairiest.

I’ve recanted the story about Clay’s and my mouse friend both here and here. Well, this little rodent has definitely overstayed his welcome and I don’t care how cute and furry he is, the little monster has got to go.  Having a bathtub surprise on two different occasions was adorable and all, but now this mouse’s prodigal return is getting on my nerves. We’re convinced he keeps getting into our apartment by way of the vent from our dryer, but judging by the little poopsies he’s leaving everywhere, this mouse clearly has no intentions of ever going back outside again.

And he no longer lives in our bathtub. He’s definitely moved on up to the East Side and now resides in our oven. We found this out the hard way when I found POOP IN OUR OVEN. FYI: Mouse poop looks exactly like chocolate sprinkles. I know this because I lifted an oven burner and thought, “When have I ever used chocolate sprinkles? I’m pretty sure I’ve never used chocolate sprinkles. Dear gosh, I don’t think those are chocolate sprinkles!”

Thank goodness I didn't sample any of the "chocolate sprinkles".

So now Clayton and I can’t use our oven or stove because our little mouse likes to use all of the rooms in his new rodent condo, and I can’t bring myself to torch him or risk the smell of burnt mouse wafting through our apartment.

We called the apartment complex and they are supposed to send maintenance workers over to put down traps. I think I’m totally annoying the office manager, too, because I keep calling him back, demanding they make sure the traps are hidden away from Joey. I love Joey and all, but he is not the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree … especially when there is free cheese lying around the house. I keep having horrible visions of me coming home from work to find my dog’s nose got snapped off.

And I can’t help but feel that this entire experience is somehow a direct reflection on Clay’s and my cleaning habits. I mean, logically it’s not our fault that a mouse found his way into a hole in our wall, but having a mouse in my apartment just makes me feel like we’re dirty people. 

However, since the same mouse has been in our apartment three different times, maybe I should take it as a compliment? Maybe he thinks our apartment is cozy? I'm flattered, but still, I don’t want him here.

I’m kind of tweeking out about the traps because as gross and obnoxious as it is to hear a mouse running around your stove, I don’t want him to die. I’m a huge animal lover (but totally draw the line at bugs. I feel no remorse for bludgeoning a spider with my shoe), and I don’t feel right about senselessly killing an animal just because he’s intruding somewhere he shouldn’t. It’s a mouse. He doesn’t know any better. But our apartment complex insisted that they use regular traps because “it’s easiest”. If we wanted to use humane traps, Clay and I would have to buy them ourselves and let’s face, Clay and I can’t catch anything but colds.  So I feel really bad, and I am praying that I’m not the one who discovers that the traps actually work.

I keep thinking about that episode of Sex in the City when Carrie has Alexander Petrovsky (“The Russian”) over to her apartment and he kills a mouse in her kitchen. The mouse took off across the counter and he beat it to death with a frying pan before tossing the dead body into a trashcan. He was so cavalier about the entire thing while poor Carrie stood open-mouthed in the corner, not believing what she just witnessed. That scene traumatized me.

I’m keeping my fingers crossed that the mouse will somehow end up in the bathtub again so I can catch him in a cup and take him to the woods where, hopefully, he will survive and won’t have a GPS that can lead him back to our apartment.