People have been clamouring for more of my mice saga.
“Love those meeces to pieces” and “Wow” and “The story could be worse” and “You’ll pull through this” and “It’s not as bad as you think” and…
The comments, to me personally and not on here on my blog, are similar. One person even told me to check behind my fridge and under my stove. Thankfully, I have a wall oven and a gas stove top, so I’m fine with the stove, thank you very much. But the fridge? Yes, I’m sure I’ll find treasures there. The other day, Easter Sunday in fact, shortly before our thirteen guests arrived, I happened to find a pile of peanut shells under a throw pillow on the couch in the “little living room.” We mainly use the great room and Hubby’s man cave, but it was still disgusting. The previous day, I opened a drawer in my grandmother’s ornate desk to find several turds. How they managed that feat is beyond me because there is no access behind the drawers.
Someone near and dear to me even had the audacity to email: “Hope you’re enjoying your new friends.”
YOU try to enjoy life with rodents and see how you fare. Literally, I’m constantly looking over my shoulders, watching where I step, examining my food…
NO, I’m NOT enjoying this period of my life. Sure, things could be waaaaaaay worse. But I don’t want “worse.” I want normal. The life I had before.
I can’t turn the clock back to “before.” Some things are impossible to rectify and revert, like the death of my son (I need to insert him into my every writing. Just because. I can’t help it).
But we—not me—”someone,” Hubby, exterminators should be able to put our house back in pre-mouse condition.
And today—SUCCESS!!!—Terminator coming on Thursday. I had to sic the fear of “something” into Hubby, and it worked! When I told him one exterminator company wanted upwards of $3,500 to assess and block any access holes, well–that spurred him into action. The company he uses at work charges $50 a month to take care of ANY critter/bug/insect/rodent/you-name-it, which makes me Happy Doobie!
It’s about time. Cause I’m at the point where it’s either this crit (me) or the “other” critters. One of us is about to leave this house. And I don’t think it’s the meeces….