This. Means. WAR.
Yes, it's around the holidays and I was going to write about finals..and law school. But no...SCREW all that. I have one pressing issue that is going to drive me to the nut house. My lovely closet-sized room in Boston has MICE. I'm happy to say, I have very few phobias, but VERMIN running across my room makes me want to let out a high pitched girlish squeal and throw myself out the window.
I first noticed them a couple days ago, when my floor admittedly was a mess. And I saw these two brown forms squirming over some of the papers. The only possible comparison I can evoke is that scene from the movie Arachnaphobia when Jeff Daniels slowly pushes over the couch to reveal thousands of spiders crawling everywhere. Let me tell you...I nearly threw up. Then, I galvanized into action, gathering everything on the floor into a giant plastic bag. Blindly throwing items around, shaking out clothes, stabbing at my book bag furiously with a broom, suspiciously eyeing the old wooden night table I had salvaged off the street as a possible location for Mouse Headquarters. But nothing. After checking everywhere, cleaning everything, dumping the trash, and doing everything apart from tearing up the floorboards...I found nothing. They apparently LIVE in the vents. Or in the walls. Or perhaps are laying little mice babies in my closet (shudder). Seriously, I'm getting nightmares about them. I'll come back from winter break to find my desk consumed.
This is kind of a shock to me. I mean, for god's sake, I lived in Centre Avenue....where there were regularly dirty dishes stacked to the ceiling, food crumbs so embedded in the carpet that all of us just collectively learned to ignore it, and overflowing trash. Hell, 4 slobs (myself included) lived there, and I didn't see a single rodent. Then...I tripled my monthly rent and upgraded into this bougie condo with a roomate that seems to view cleaning as a stress reliever, and disease-carrying pests are all over the place like gang busters. Oh, the irony.
My roomate and I have our issues...most of them seem centered around money...which I can deal with. But after the latest terrifying appearance of our creepy mouse head honcho, Fat Louie (really, he needed a nickname), I decided to "grow a pair" (so to speak anyway) and have a chat with the roomie about this. I figured, someone who has left notes about proper bathroom mirror maintenance would be up in arms over the news of infestation. I was wrong.
"Um...there are mice in my room."
"Yeah, they always come out in winter. I'm just used to them."
"Oh."
"They're harmless."
Right, because my irrational fear of mice isn't just that they'll eat my face when I go to sleep but that they're IN MY ROOM at all...my tiny..tiny room.
It would be one thing if I lived in a palatial mansion. Hell, I'm generous, I'd concede the west wing to Fat Louie & Co., as long as I didn't have to see them. EVER. They could consume their weight in food, slowly degrade furniture, who gave a shit, as long as I could remain blissfully ignorant of their presence. But no, they have the audacity..the NERVE, to scamper out in search of grub when 1) I don't even have food! Since the first time, I purged my room of anything that could even be construed as edible. If it meant starving to death, fine. So long as they were starving right along with me. 2) Aren't mice supposed to be nocturnal? What the hell are they doing out at 6pm?
My parents would FREAK OUT. Oddly my 1L brain began thinking along the lines of "Hey, I wonder if I can sue my roomie for Negligent Infliction of Emotional Distress...."
Thus far, in the last couple days there have been 4 sightings....each of which prompt me into a bout of masochism where I go trolling on the internet looking for mice info. Did you guys know mice are experts at climbing vertical fucking surfaces?!
There's also this site where people detailed their mouse-related grievances. Check this, there's a guy who's actually sleeping in his car because mice crawl into his bed. Poor bastard. And what about this priceless little fear factoid:
" If you see a rat or mouse, you can be sure there are many more. Rats and mice breed fast. A mouse can have several young when she's two months old. Then, two months later, her young will breed. In the meantime, the mother will produce another litter. So you must keep working to get rid of them."
Great, and here I was chanting over and over "It's just a couple mice." According to that website...not bloody likely. They're MULTIPLYING! AAAAAAAAaaaaaah!
Ahem, so I really need to move out. But that's 5 months away at the earliest, so it appears a confrontation is imminent. It's pretty simple, it's me or them. Mousetraps, mothballs, the whole nine yards. I've heard they hate the smell of peppermint oil so you can bet I'm going to douse the room in that. Maybe mothballs soaked in peppermint oil.
Because I'm pissed. I'm done with finals and I should be celebrating...instead of charting out war strategy like it's the Battle of fucking Antietam. This has been an update from the front lines. God speed.
Quote of the Day:
Once you've rid your house of mice, can you relax the forget them? No. New mice will find you. Save your traps. Be ready to go to war with mice again.
---http://pubs.caes.uga.edu/caespubs/pubcd/L384.htm
I first noticed them a couple days ago, when my floor admittedly was a mess. And I saw these two brown forms squirming over some of the papers. The only possible comparison I can evoke is that scene from the movie Arachnaphobia when Jeff Daniels slowly pushes over the couch to reveal thousands of spiders crawling everywhere. Let me tell you...I nearly threw up. Then, I galvanized into action, gathering everything on the floor into a giant plastic bag. Blindly throwing items around, shaking out clothes, stabbing at my book bag furiously with a broom, suspiciously eyeing the old wooden night table I had salvaged off the street as a possible location for Mouse Headquarters. But nothing. After checking everywhere, cleaning everything, dumping the trash, and doing everything apart from tearing up the floorboards...I found nothing. They apparently LIVE in the vents. Or in the walls. Or perhaps are laying little mice babies in my closet (shudder). Seriously, I'm getting nightmares about them. I'll come back from winter break to find my desk consumed.
This is kind of a shock to me. I mean, for god's sake, I lived in Centre Avenue....where there were regularly dirty dishes stacked to the ceiling, food crumbs so embedded in the carpet that all of us just collectively learned to ignore it, and overflowing trash. Hell, 4 slobs (myself included) lived there, and I didn't see a single rodent. Then...I tripled my monthly rent and upgraded into this bougie condo with a roomate that seems to view cleaning as a stress reliever, and disease-carrying pests are all over the place like gang busters. Oh, the irony.
My roomate and I have our issues...most of them seem centered around money...which I can deal with. But after the latest terrifying appearance of our creepy mouse head honcho, Fat Louie (really, he needed a nickname), I decided to "grow a pair" (so to speak anyway) and have a chat with the roomie about this. I figured, someone who has left notes about proper bathroom mirror maintenance would be up in arms over the news of infestation. I was wrong.
"Um...there are mice in my room."
"Yeah, they always come out in winter. I'm just used to them."
"Oh."
"They're harmless."
Right, because my irrational fear of mice isn't just that they'll eat my face when I go to sleep but that they're IN MY ROOM at all...my tiny..tiny room.
It would be one thing if I lived in a palatial mansion. Hell, I'm generous, I'd concede the west wing to Fat Louie & Co., as long as I didn't have to see them. EVER. They could consume their weight in food, slowly degrade furniture, who gave a shit, as long as I could remain blissfully ignorant of their presence. But no, they have the audacity..the NERVE, to scamper out in search of grub when 1) I don't even have food! Since the first time, I purged my room of anything that could even be construed as edible. If it meant starving to death, fine. So long as they were starving right along with me. 2) Aren't mice supposed to be nocturnal? What the hell are they doing out at 6pm?
My parents would FREAK OUT. Oddly my 1L brain began thinking along the lines of "Hey, I wonder if I can sue my roomie for Negligent Infliction of Emotional Distress...."
Thus far, in the last couple days there have been 4 sightings....each of which prompt me into a bout of masochism where I go trolling on the internet looking for mice info. Did you guys know mice are experts at climbing vertical fucking surfaces?!
There's also this site where people detailed their mouse-related grievances. Check this, there's a guy who's actually sleeping in his car because mice crawl into his bed. Poor bastard. And what about this priceless little fear factoid:
" If you see a rat or mouse, you can be sure there are many more. Rats and mice breed fast. A mouse can have several young when she's two months old. Then, two months later, her young will breed. In the meantime, the mother will produce another litter. So you must keep working to get rid of them."
Great, and here I was chanting over and over "It's just a couple mice." According to that website...not bloody likely. They're MULTIPLYING! AAAAAAAAaaaaaah!
Ahem, so I really need to move out. But that's 5 months away at the earliest, so it appears a confrontation is imminent. It's pretty simple, it's me or them. Mousetraps, mothballs, the whole nine yards. I've heard they hate the smell of peppermint oil so you can bet I'm going to douse the room in that. Maybe mothballs soaked in peppermint oil.
Because I'm pissed. I'm done with finals and I should be celebrating...instead of charting out war strategy like it's the Battle of fucking Antietam. This has been an update from the front lines. God speed.
Quote of the Day:
Once you've rid your house of mice, can you relax the forget them? No. New mice will find you. Save your traps. Be ready to go to war with mice again.
---http://pubs.caes.uga.edu/caespubs/pubcd/L384.htm
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