Our home has been like DisneyLand for the past 24 hours. And by that, I mean that there have been thrills, screams, and a visit from either a Minnie or a Mickey. Now that I lay it all out like that, though, there are less Disney-like qualities than first imagined.
We arrived home last night after seeing Moonrise Kingdom, in a rather euphoric adventure and sugar filled state. We were sitting at our table contemplating how we would spend the next portion of our evening, when I started hearing drips. Jordan investigated the sink and the plumbing, but with little luck, he followed his ear to the baking cabinet. He then said, “oh my” and then promptly walked outside carrying a pancake mix outside. He was trying to remain calm, so I obviously started to freaking out and imagining what was inside the bag. Mold? No. Bugs? Cockroaches? I was in a state of alarm. He returned inside to tell me there was “just a little mousey” inside that bag. Being newly 25 and very brave, I did what was appropriate: I jumped onto the table, started crying and trembling as my body temperature spiked by 10 degrees.
I remained on the table for the next 30 minutes, as I instructed Jordan to check each cabinet, container, and room thoroughly. He was very patient with me, all the while recognizing that my reaction was a tad extreme. I eventually left my safe table top and played “the ground is lava” until bed. I didn’t think I would sleep, but I did. Jordan sealed our room and triple checked every nook and cranny (probably realizing the logic that if I could sleep, so too would he). I awoke from a dream in which a mouse was crawling on my head, which consequently resulted in me punching my own face in real life. I woke up at 9am, and remained paralyzed in the bed until 10am when Jordan woke up. I showered and by 11am put on my mouse protection gear (rain boots, cleaning gloves, and an apron). We tore the kitchen apart, cleaning and searching. We found some mouse droppings under the stove, and in the laundry room. Each sighting hurt my heart a little bit. I breathed in a shallow manner all day. We acquired mousetraps (non-murderous), and a whole host of mouse repellants (apparently they hate the scent of mint plants). At 5pm, Jordan left for band practice and I continued to clean. I felt a bit empowered as I bravely cleaned the areas of the droppings.
I sat down to write this blog, feeling proud of my newfound bravery (though still wearing my safety boots) when suddenly I heard drip drip. I blamed my imagination and held my ground. Step, step, step (coming from under the stove) step, step, step. I resumed my table stance, my heart pounding, and mapped out my plan of attack. After calling Jordan and realizing he wasn’t going to be home for some time I decided to flee. I ran to the stove, kicked it, grabbed my laptop and walked to a nearby Tim Hortons. This is where I am now, contemplating how dramatic I am behaving, and also how happy I am to be away from the little terrors.