5 hours ago
Monday, October 3, 2011
I apologize for the cliff hanger, especially since the story might not have the earth shaking climax expected in this modern world of high energy entertainment. I can say I certainly didn't find the whole experience to be entertaining. Other words come to mind, but not the sort I can write out online without a lot of $*#!% in them.
So, ah, okay. There I was wondering how my kitchen would ever be tenable again, and feeling really rotten. We ditched all the food, took out all the trash, and then I went back upstairs to try to get a few hours of sleep. It was rough, knowing there was a mouse running around down there and knowing I couldn't do anything until my spouse went to work, came back, and then we went out to Home Depot to get some accoutrements for varmint warfare.
I tossed and turned, managed a few hours of sleep, and then got dressed. I couldn't eat anything, not that there was much left. But I couldn't bring myself to eat. It was a strange feeling, though. It didn't seem just a simple "this place is contaminated and I'm scared." It felt more like it just wasn't right to eat. It didn't feel right. I couldn't figure it out. Finally spouse came home and we went out, got some materials for fighting varmints, and then returned.
I bought two voltage traps, feeling bad about it all the while. Ideally, I'd use catch and release traps, but there is no way I'd be able to handle a live mouse, thinking all the time I'd make a mistake and it would bite me. And where could I release it around here? Still, I felt as though this was another case of OCD making my choices for me, and I didn't like it. Felt guilty.
In spite of all this, I got the batteries in the traps, got them baited, and put into place on the kitchen floor. My plan was to try to catch the mouse over night, and then either way, to plug in the set of sonic rodent repellers all over the house the next morning, and hope that would discourage future visitors. Not the best plan, and it sort of hinged on catching said mouse (since there is no concrete evidence that the sonic things work) but it was the best I could do. I'd spent plenty of time figuring out what I could and couldn't use, like no poison obviously, and this was the best plan I could come up with. We were going to be flying out the next day, after all.
And somehow at that point I started to feel better. I sat down on the couch and tried to figure out why. Mouse had not been caught, and I had no idea what would or would not work. My husband suggested we go get dinner, and suddenly I felt like I could eat. It took a while, but eventually it hit me that part of my problem was merely feeling totally out of control. Once I had made a plan and put it in motion, I felt a lot better. Even if it wasn't a great plan, I was clearly happy to be doing something, or at least doing the best I could.
My T doc is always reminding me that I don't always have to be doing something, or anything. Sometimes the best or most functional response in a situation is to acknowledge it and then do nothing. This really goes against my grain. I always, always want to do something. Sitting and abiding is the hardest. And at least in this case, with a mouse in the house, one really did have to do something about it. Maybe that's why I felt better, I'm not sure. I'm not even sure that analyzing it is going to help, but you can't take the science out of the scientist.
Next morning ... there was a former mouse in one of the traps. I was happy and sad. Cognitive dissonance overload. I had my spouse dispose of the entire trap, mouse included. It's supposed to be good for 50 zaps, but I can't imagine reusing something that has had a dead mouse in it. Ewww.
I plugged in the sonic repellers, and spouse and I left the house. I'll have to put an update in sometime about if more of the critters show up or not. For the moment, anyway, we seem to have success.
As for the kitchen, a good cleaning, and then putting food in glass jars, and the place is tenable again. I have this strong sense of certainty that the place is okay. I can't believe it. I was expecting to be unable to use the kitchen for weeks, but I don't feel that way anymore. Maybe this is a sign of general increasing mental health. That'd be pretty nice.
Your Hostess With Neuroses
Image credit/info: Mindy Mouse by Wednesday Elf - Mountainside Crochet, on flikr via Creative Commons, CC 2.0
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