Mice are strange little creatures, when you think about it. Sure, they’re also disgusting and all rodent-y, but when you realize the abilities of these little germ infested assholes, it’s almost impressive. Not impressive enough to keep them around … but impressive, nonetheless.
I have been impressed by mice for some time now, having lived near fields a couple of times in the past and now, again, in this house. My husband, however, doubted their morphing abilities and didn’t give them the credit they righteously deserve.
We have gone round and round in our mouse debate over the last couple years. He insists they cannot flatten themselves down to nearly nothing in order to squeeze into small spaces. I, on the other hand, know that they somehow dislodge all bone structure and slide anywhere they fucking want to.
On Sunday, I finally won the battle. Not with the mice – but with my husband.
He was under the kitchen sink, fixing a pipe or something. I was acting apprentice for the task and performed minor tasks per his request. From the corner of my eye, I saw the little son-of-a-bitch (not my husband – the mouse) scurry across the kitchen hall area into a cabinet. I swear to God – this cabinet was effin closed and latched.
I shared this information with my husband, who immediately stated that I was either lying or crazy (okay, he didn’t say it exactly like that, but he may as well have). I told him to come see for himself unless he was afraid he would be proven wrong.
I was silently praying there wasn’t some black hole into Never-Never Land placed in some crevice in the cabinet. This was my chance to prove my case. I knew I was right. I’d seen it with my own eyes. Provided I really wasn’t crazy, he was finally going to know I was right. About this. About everything. Always.
As we walk up to this cabinet, I noticed the tiniest little separation between the door and the frame. I pointed this observation out to my husband who literally laughed in my face at the idea that the mouse fit through that tiny little space. At this point, I almost doubted myself and my vast knowledge of mice and their disgusting little habits. My confidence was soon redeemed, however, when we opened the cabinet to reveal the little bastard hiding in the corner of the cabinet, as I said he would be.
Ah, sweet victory
It was at that point, and not a second sooner, that we both realized that we hadn’t really thought this plan all the way through.
There we stood, my husband with his shock and surprise and me, with my smug smile, staring at this little mouse who was clearly in all out panic mode. The little fucker was trying every strategy his Mom taught him. He scurried until he realized there was nowhere to run. He squeaked a little in an effort to call in the troops, he played dead thinking maybe we would simply move on with our lives after having realized he was dead and of no use to us.
As I reached for the wrench from underneath the sink, my husband grabs a box. We both turned around with our “weapons” and looks at each other in obvious disbelief.
I was wondering how the hell he planned on killing a mouse with a box. He was wondering what kind of murdering, heartless bitch he really married.
After I giggled a little at the obvious gender role debacle, I put down my wrench and asked what I could do to help catch the little bastard. As we discussed strategy, the mouse made his way out of the closet and into a crack in the wall.
This crack? Less than a 1/4 inch wide. No kidding. I still insist they morph into slime rodents. My husband – even with no leg to stand on – still somehow insists that I am wrong. This must have been a fluke.
And the best part? I obviously set it up to play out the way it did just to make him think I was right.
Wow.
I absolutely agree with you! I spent my childhood living in the boonies of Kentucky and we had our fair share of rodent visits. I may not be able to prove it, but I swear they can flatten themselves into furry little pancakes with legs.
Love your blog!
Furry little pancakes. Perfect description. Thank you.
Thanks for reading!
On your side! They do/can flatten themselves I too lived for a few years in an old country house with a field behind it and we had GIANT wolf rats in our home at night. I can still hear/see them. They were the size of a small cat. And no one opened up the door to let them in. They made it in through the door cracks. So there hubby!
They totally can! Sadly, I think denial has set in pretty heavily for the husband. I may have to check to see if there is a “Mouse Week” on the Discovery channel so he can study up on the beady eyed bastards.
I am glad that you are the valiant mouse slayer and your husband is the pansy mouse whisperer in this story, but I’d make him hold a candlelight vigil at the crack in the wall until that son of a bitch surfaces again.
LMFAO. “The pansy mouse whisperer”?! I think a little tiny bit of pee may have just came out, I was caught so off guard by that comment. I am so going to hear about this tonight. So worth it, though. So worth it. … the pansy mouse whisperer …. lmfao
Found you through Pretty All True. Fantastic, I tell you, FANFUCKINTASTIC.
I am sitting in Starbucks, trying to laugh as silently as possible, with tears streaming down my face.
Were you in my last house, when I fought the mice for fucking years? Seriously? I mean, these mice are so damn talented. And you? You perfected the visual of that mouse trying every tactic his momma taught him in that cabinet. I have seen it so many times with my own eyes.
And really? How the hell do they squish themselves down so little tiny?? I really would like to know, so I can find a quick escape when I do idiotic things in public, like dump my starbucks drink in the middle of the store.
Le sigh.
Hi Danielle,
Thank you for coming by. And for the kind words. Very much appreciated.
I’m still trying to figure this whole empire of mice thing out. I know they breed like … well, mice, I guess. I know that when I think I have 2 mice, I really have at least 12. They all look so similar since they all just keep screwing their cousins.
I shit you not, as I’m typing right fucking now – the little assholes are playing tag in the attic above me. Jeezuz. it’s the middle of the day! They’re usually resting up for their scurry-and-steal-fest hosted by yours truly.
Is it irrational for me to feel like they’re taunting me right now? Do you think mice brains are big enough to calculate and plan ahead? I suppose it is possible. Then again, a mouse will go to a trap set next to the one where his dead brother just died a gruesome death in pursuit of the delicious dollop of peanut butter, hoping things will turn out differently for him.
Whatever. I’m taking this shit personal.
Yes, I do indeed think they can calculate and plan ahead. I have seen it with my own eyes. I mean, seriously? Who the hell decides that he wants to play a game of DOG AND MOUSE at 11:30 pm? The mice in my house, that’s who. And they do fuck their cousins. In fact, I think you probably have closer to 24 mice, not 12. Just sayin’.
Yet. I loved them at times. Maybe I gave them mixed signals when I saved their 4 babies I found roaming the nursery floor, still with fused eyes? I couldn’t kill them. I just couldn’t. So what the fuck did I do? I made a little fucking bed for them, a little nest. Out of cotton balls and tissues and omfg, I put that little nest behind my bookshelf where I found the last nest. And do you know how they repaid me?
BY EATING MY FUCKING ELEMENTARY SCHOOL YEARBOOK.
fuckers.
Ungrateful bastards.
To be fair, I couldn’t kill baby mice. Just the big ugly ones. Oh, and the pregnant ones – cuz it doesn’t really count if they haven’t been born.
The line between rodent control and genocide is slightly blurred these days. They should really get the fuck out before I really get crazy and start making examples out of their family members.
BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! run for your liiiiiiiiiiiiives, mothafuckas!
My favorite line: he was finally going to know I was right. About this. About everything. Always.
My next favorite line: He was wondering what kind of murdering, heartless bitch he really married.
This is hilarious. And for those of us with mice issues, a great read (I knew you were totally right from the beginning, though. They are boneless little suckers).
Laughing out loud. Thanks –
Thank you, Alyson.
I tend to overgeneralize from time to time. In my eyes, if I can prove I know what I’m talking about just one time (and he actually admits I’m right)? All will become clear immediately and the power will shift, you know what I mean?
I’ll have to keep hoping and dreaming, I suppose. Even with physical evidence and first hand witnessing – he still wouldn’t back down.
I find his conviction to be kind of hot. What does that say about me? lol.
this is really funny! i love the way it all unfolded. i have to admit that i think i’d have grabbed the box, too.
Well, to each his own, I guess. lol. I won’t hold the fact that you value life (even the lives of rodents) against you
This is hilarious!! Because it was you guys not us going through it, but also because it could’ve been us….even down to my fav line: he was finally going to know I was right. About this. About everything. Always.
Thanks for linking up to Word Up, YO!
You guys chose a word with which I am extremely familiar. If I had to describe my life in one word? Debacle would be a definite consideration.
Funniest line: “He was wondering what kind of murdering, heartless bitch he really married.”
You’re so right, they can flatten themselves and squeeze into the tiniest cracks and crevices. The last house we lived in out in the woods had its fair share of mice. I never felt safe in that dang house! lol
Great post. You totally made me laugh.
Kristi, Live and Love…Out Loud
@TweetingMama
Thanks, Kristi. Mice are of the devil. Of that much? I’m sure.
They ARE like Houdini. With a splash of David Copperfield. We had them in our old house which had this 1700′s stone foundation. We could never find the spot they entered, just signs they had. I kept telling the hubs to close the huge ass dog food bag, and then one day we were standing there and a mouse crawled right out of the bag and up the wall- yeh- up the wall! totally ignoring us. Our dufus 95 lb lab yelped & bolted from the room so fast his claws did the cartoon slide on the tile. It was hysterical!
ps- kick ass instinct w/the wrench. take no prisoners.
My pit bull barks while slowly backing away from the mouse, if forced into a confrontation. A real fierce dog, that one.
My husband and I both participated in a mouse hunt yesterday and found what we believe most likely to be their point of entry.
I suggested we stick something comparable to C4 (but you know – mouse-sized) to stick down this tiny hole leading all the way through the house and all the way to the dirt underneath the foundation. I guess we’re going to go ahead with the simple patch or fill in (whatever the standard “fixing a hole in your floor” procedure is) to prevent further mouse activity.
I just keep thinking how the mice that are already chillin here, taking advantage of my 4 yr old’s crumbs, will be stuck IN my house. I feel like I should just buy them a freakin wheel to play on at this point.
“He was wondering what kind of murdering, heartless bitch he really married.”
This made me spit Mt Dew through my nose.
Too funny!
OMG, you are too hilarious! I love snort/laughing. Thank you!
Thank you. Love to make you snort/laugh!