Over the past few months, the Split-level has experienced its share of infestations: roaches, spiders, the time I was obsessed with Hall and Oats.
...it only took one incidence of me drawing a mustache on my face and singing "Sarah Smile", while careening around the front yard, barefoot, for everyone to agree it'd gone to far. And maybe, just maybe, I needed to go back to my fixation on Justin Bieber.
Who's single now, btw.
But that's a whole new blog post and a whole new set of what counts as "stalking laws" in the state of California.
Anywho. The worst infestation we've had, to date, is mice. I don't know about you, but I hate when people invite themselves over, then tell you they're going to eat a hole in your wall. But, after a heated campaign to vanquish the entire nest and its fourteen inhabitants, Husband and I had been enjoying a quiet last few months.
Until this week.
A few nights ago, as I was staring at myself in the mirror and trying to recognize the creepy homeless-looking woman winking back, I caught a dark shape dart back and forth behind me. Like the smartest person in a horror movie, I went to investigate.
He jumped out at me. Gray, large, whiskery, he successfully drove my ill-fitting pants back upstairs. The next day, I delivered the news to the head mouse hunter, "Sir?"
"Some people don't know when to quit. I'll handle the situation."
"Great. And, Captain?"
"Will you stop and get batteries for the baby's swing? I'll go ballistic if it dies again at 3am."
"Understood. Over and out."
Here's the thing. As of today, we've tried, three times, to catch our visitor. Each time, he decides to turn into Catherine Zeta-Jones, go into Entrapment mode, and carefully remove the food off the traps, without setting them off. That's right. What fourteen other mice fell for, this guy becomes an X-Man and thwarts. It's like, do they even make spandex cat suits that small?
I have a couple theories.. a.) He's really smart .... b.) He's the ghost of a mouse we already sent packing
In light of this, I've come up with a few one-liners to throw at him if we ever meet face to face again:
"If you're the Phantom of the Opera, where's your tiny half-mask?"
"So that's what a two-inch cat suit looks like."
"He who laughs last, laughs longest. Mainly because I can laugh and you can't because you're a mouse."
"Did you drop this cheese ...or this gun I'm holding?"
"Catherine Zeta-Jones, I presume?"
I'll keep you guys updated on the situation. I've gotta check our peanut butter stores and work on more cliched lines.
Until Next Time, Readers!