Um, okay

I hate to keep writing about the mouse, but I think it's good to have a record of my descent into madness in case my future behavior needs any explanation. Just point the judge/jury/media/handler/psychiatrist or whomever to my blog.

So, this morning, I was in the bathroom doing what people do in the morning in the bathroom, when here comes Ferdinand (that's what I named this mouse) strolling, and I MEAN strolling down the hallway. He sat right in front of the bathroom door, and when I screamed "Mouse", he strolled down the hallway -- HE DID NOT RUN -- towards the kitchen. So, I finished my morning tinkle, and then ran from the bathroom to try to catch him. Then, he started running and ran under the fridge. I scooped up the last of the D-con and threw it under the fridge in the hope that he might gorge himself and DIE. But, no. I got on the phone with my cousin Veronica to talk about the great vacation we will surely take one day soon, and in the middle of imagining Brazil in May, here comes Ferdinand again. He's moving slowly, so I think the D-Con is working. Poor Veronica has to talk me through the murder, but after putting a box over him and running to get the killing broom I finally smashed him good. Great, right?

No, because Ferdinand must have owed some other mouse money, because another mouse came looking for him tonight. Scurried from under the stove and was stealthy in his attempt to get across the floor to the closet. This one was quick, but he's about to be quick and dead. I am a mouse murderer. And, I'm proud of it.

Check it out:

www.doyourownpestcontrol.com
www.pestcontrolsupplies.com
www.pestcontrol-products.com

Wish me luck. On payday, I'm going to buy a set of night vision goggles, and maybe a gun. This apartment isn't big enough for the three(?), four(?), ten(?) of us. The fuzzy brown horde has got to go.