So, yeah, my apartment is a little bit ghetto. In the past few months we've started to see cockroach and mouse problems. The landlady was great about the cockroaches and we had an exterminator in, maybe, 2 months ago now, and the roaches are pretty much gone. I think I've seen 1 since then and K, my roommate, has seen one or two also.
The mice, however, continue. I've had mice before. They're not the end of the world. One thing I discovered, though, is that your modern, cosmopolitan mouse is very picky when it comes to bait. I put down cheesewhiz or Kraft singles or even cracker barrel old cheddar: nothing. It's only when I put down my $10/lb asiago or parmesan that the traps work. Oh, also, the peanut butter thing? Total. Crock. I've never ever once in my entire life caught a mouse with peanut butter on a trap. I've also heard of using vanilla (I think that was K's suggestion) so I tried that. While the bottom shelf of the pantry did smell very nice for a day or two, it didn't catch any mice. I may just start putting vanilla down for my own pleasure.
In any case, I think we've caught 3 mice now by going the old fashioned trap-and-expensive-cheese route. So I get up this morning. Now, first thing yesterday I went to Bikram Yoga and sweated my nuts off. Then I walked all over the distillery for a few hours. Then I went swing dancing for several, several hours. And had a couple of beers while there. So, my muscles are all sore and I'm powerful dehydrated. Oh, and, due to daylight savings time, I have DEFinitely not slept enough. So I stagger into the kitchen in the dark and turn on the tap.
All of a sudden there's a flash of movement in the sink. Something about 2 inches long and 1 inch wide is darting all over the bottom of the kitchen sink. Now, of course, you've had all this preamble AND the title to predict what that object might be, but I just dragged myself out of bed and as much as my life seems like a fiction novel sometimes, I don't get to see the chapter titles. I think I nearly wet myself. After a few seconds of adrenalin rush, my brain kicked in and said "uh, stupid, it's a mouse" and I turned on the kitchen light and paused to think about the situation.
It's funny how everyone's got their weird little rules and moral systems and so forth. I have no qualms whatever about laying a trap down to break a mouse's little neck and no problem picking up that trap and taking the dead mouse out of it and throwing him in the garbage. I can scoop dead fish out of my fish tank and throw them in the garbage or flush them down the toilet (depending on size) without too much remorse, except the thought that I had spent a lot of money on that fish.
However, standing there in my kitchen in nothing but my cow boxers with a soaking wet baby mouse in front of me I sort of lost all that spine. So I did what any humane crazy person with their hair going in every direction would do: I picked up a clean spaghetti sauce jar and scooped the mouse up and put the lid on. I went and threw on some clothes and headed for the park, mouse in jar in hand. I can't even imagine how weird that might have looked. I took him to the park far away so that he'd have trouble making it back. There's a nice construction site at the park I did take him too, I'm sure he won't have too much trouble finding somewhere to live now that he's in "the wild".
On the plus side, I did get to wear my hot new sunglasses first thing this morning.