- I MIGHT tell you that I hosted a 4th annual friends Thanksgiving feast at my house.
- I COULD tell you that on Thanksgiving I attended two different family dinners AND ate two meals.
- MAYBE I would tell you that I went to lunch and a movie with my sister for her 29th birthday or that I helped my grandma celebrate her 83rd birthday.
- PERHAPS I would tell you that I went to a University of Michigan football game.
- It’s FEASIBLE that I would tell you about the time I spent with my brother who flew in from California for the holiday.
I DOUBT I would tell you any of these things though. Instead, I would tell you that there was a mouse in my house over Thanksgiving break. I’m being 100% real. There was a mouse in my house, and it was terrifying.
I slept in the Friday morning after Thanksgiving. When I woke up, I lazily stumbled out of bed and made my way to the kitchen to meet my husband for breakfast. As he stood on one side of our kitchen island eating a bowl of Cheerios, I sliced a banana for my Rice Chex on the opposite side of the counter and we sleepily discussed the possibility of venturing out of our house to visit a few stores for Black Friday deals. Suddenly, out of nowhere (seriously, out of nowhere), a fat brown mouse slowly waddled across the kitchen floor.
I gasped, jumped up and down, pointed at the critter and yelled, “Oh my god, what is that?!?!”
By the time my husband turned around, the mouse had figured out that I did not like having him in my kitchen, and he was sprinting into the living room. Luckily, my husband spotted the tail end of the animal before he made it all the way out of the kitchen, and the man started to chase after it like an experienced mouse hunter.
At this time I need to clarify two things:
2) I’m a clean freak. I swear my house is not suitable for mice. I promise I don’t live in a house full of vermin.
I could tell by his reaction that he had no plan. This is when he paused briefly, and then decided to yell “run to the garage and grab a bucket and a flashlight!”
So, I grabbed my winter boots, shook them upside down, because 1 mouse in my house means that there could be 500 million mice in my boots, and I ran to the garage to grab a 5-gallon bucket and a flashlight.
Instead of acting calm, cool, and collected, I let out something like, “Ew-oh-ah-ah-ah-yeeee-get-him!” My reaction terrified the mouse and he started running in circles around each section of our couch. Guess what? By moving the couch, we had inadvertently built a giant sized mouse maze in the middle of the living room.
The mouse ran in circles around each cushion and my husband jumped from cushion to cushion waving his bucket in the air in a threatening manner. I stood frozen in the corner.
Finally, the mouse bolted to our bathroom, realized he was trapped, and started trying to jump to the top of the bathroom counter. (Have you ever seen a mouse trying to jump? It’s disgusting.) I stood in the hallway, my husband stood behind the mouse, and as the mouse faced me my husband threw the bucket down on top of the mouse.
Gross out alert in 3-2-1:
When my husband threw the bucket, the mouse continued to run. Instead of being centered under the bucket, the edge of the bucket fell directly on the mouse’s neck. Just when the mouse and I locked eyes, he was decapitated.
I screamed, gagged, muttered “that’s the grossest thing I've ever seen in my life” followed by “poor little mouse” followed by “that’s what you get for being in my kitchen you jerk!” followed by “aww, poor thing” followed by “ugh, why was there a mouse in the house?” And then I concluded with, “can you please clean that up?” and “do you think we should move?”.
Since this incident, I have been cleaning every inch of my house. I live off of a dirt road, and I understand that being surrounded by nature means that the occasional inevitable mouse will trigger a mouse trap in the attic, but critters are not welcome in my home.
I have been on high alert this week. I admit that I stepped on the cord to my computer yesterday and jumped. I also admit that I saw a bird fly by my window and screamed. Yes, I set mouse traps in my kitchen. Yes, I cleaned out my entire pantry. Yes, I vacuumed, mopped, swept, and scrubbed every inch of my house. Yes, I continue to check my shoes for mice before I put them on my feet.
The good news is, today my nerves have settled enough that I am able to sit in my kitchen and write about my mouse adventure.
At least I was visited by a mouse this Thanksgiving instead of a ram.