The Texas Mama

Oh, man, what a week!  Sunday, we discovered that we had mice!  We live in an upstairs apartment.  You may have picked up on this, or may not have, but I am borderline OCD when it comes to cleaning.  I have this schedule made of chores, which ones I do on which days, and so forth.  I vacuum our tiny apartment twice a week- even though it would probably be fine if I only did it once. I sweep and mop our tiny kitchen every week.  I wipe the counters down every night before I go to bed.  But we got FLEAS too a few weeks ago, even though we have NO PETS!  We are CLEAN PEOPLE, I SWEAR!!!  What is going on?!  Is someone in a nearby apartment just really nasty and their pest problems are flowing into our home?! Oh, this is so gross it is embarrassing! 

So I put this expensive flea powder down a couple times and it seems to have taken care of that problem.  We got two traps, and put them out.  We caught two mice with them.  Then yesterday we (meaning Jeremy did as I watched) set four more traps. I think they have figured them out, because no more have been caught.  Unfortunately, before we were able to kill Bob and Albert (I named Bob, Jeremy named Albert, as in Fat Albert, when he made the comment that Bob’s brother “Albert has got a big ass on him”) they were able to spread the word that there was plenty of room at the next apartment over.  So I know we have at least two more, which I refer to as ‘the twins’, not because they are super hot beer models, but because I seem to be lacking creativity lately. 

So I called the management, and they said their pest guy is here today and they would send him over with some sticky traps.  So I am going to have mice in my kitchen with their tiny feet stuck to a sheet of this stuff. Alive.  Squealing for help.  And Jeremy will be at work.  All day.  And I will be here, because I have to pack for our move.  In four days. 

I am so stressed.  I am scared of going in the kitchen. I pull on my tennis shoes, work up my courage, take a big breath and step over the panel we taped to the kitchen entry so that they have to stay in there and not, say IN OUR BED CRAWLING OVER US AT NIGHT!!!  They haven’t, as far as we know, but still, Jeremy is especially paranoid about this happening.  Poor guy is not getting much sleep.  So I do a big trip into the kitchen about three or four times a day.  Last night, I wouldn’t even cook dinner- I had Jeremy pick some up on his way home. 

I manage two bowls of cereal, chocolate milk, juice, and my green tea this morning (in two trips, but only about two minutes each in duration), but when Hali started demanding grilled cheese for lunch, I refused.  I could not do it.  I would have to get the skillet out of the drawer under the stove/oven where the mice are. I can actually here them down there, banging the pans and cookware with their tails.  No way. Uh-uh.  Was NOT about to do that. So we went to Jack-in-the-Box.  Right now, I am trying to work up the courage to go pull some chicken out of the freezer for dinner.  Not to mention figure out how I can bribe Jeremy to cook diner.  Huh.  Looks like I am going to owe someone some sexual favors.  It’s really my only bargaining tool.