Christmas wishes?
The cold weather has arrived and, with that, I have fallen victim to that which makes everybody cringe in fear: I have a mouse inside my home. In the beginning I wasn't sure it was even a mouse, I was content thinking that unexplained noises were nothing more than cheap manifestations of some spirit looking to communicate by making scratching noises throughout my carpet. This wasn't the case. There is no spirit of a 5 year-old girl that was brutally murdered in the backwoods of my landlord's property looking for justice. I am not to be an unnamed hero in the fashion of Patricia Arquette's Medium. I guess not everything is bad, as I don't think that haircut would look good on me. Still, I couldn't help but feel a little disappointed and exhilarated at the same time.
To be honest, it wasn't until yesterday that I even realized I had a mouse roaming what people have called the Shangri-La of Monsey. I saw a quick shadow moving from behind my closet onto underneath my couch. It was kind of hard to see since my place is in disarray because of repairs, redecoration, and renewal. So, I did what any normal individual would do in these circumstances. I headed to the nearest Walmart, set upon buying a rifle to rid myself of this pest. After noticing that I would definitely not be able to afford a rifle, I decided that mouse traps would also be effective, though less satisfying. So, in the end, I bought 4 mouse traps and a fumigator set to get rid of all sorts of bullshit that might be lurking about my place and attempt to smother me in my sleep. So, I set the four traps last night and set the fumigator this morning before going to work, in the hopes of coming home and, like a child on Christmas Day, find a dead mouse in one of the traps. I found nothing. Four traps that still display "set" instead of "mouse caught". Empty fumigators, that have no doubt unleashed death and suffering upon ants and spiders that will now have to think twice before coming into my home. However, when it came to mice, I was still very much unsatisfied, and I demand satisfaction.
Tonight, as I was facebooking, blogging, or otherwise minding my own business, I saw a the quick shadow more, again, from the couch I was sitting in towards the back part of my big closet. What in the hell? Surely, this fucking mouse was going to show me a little respect and at least parade around my apartment in its underwear ONLY when I wasn't at home. This isn't the case, it seems, as not even five minutes later it started a diabolical game of peek-a-boo with me that would leave me scarred for life. After a few minutes of what some people would describe as "staring at Satan in the face", the mouse decided to get out from behind the big closet, give me the finger, and proceed to hurry to the back of my refrigerator.
I'm not asking for much, really. A dead mouse, that's it. Oh, Santa, will you please give me what I want this Christmas? It's OK, I have a bottle of wine to give me courage.
To be honest, it wasn't until yesterday that I even realized I had a mouse roaming what people have called the Shangri-La of Monsey. I saw a quick shadow moving from behind my closet onto underneath my couch. It was kind of hard to see since my place is in disarray because of repairs, redecoration, and renewal. So, I did what any normal individual would do in these circumstances. I headed to the nearest Walmart, set upon buying a rifle to rid myself of this pest. After noticing that I would definitely not be able to afford a rifle, I decided that mouse traps would also be effective, though less satisfying. So, in the end, I bought 4 mouse traps and a fumigator set to get rid of all sorts of bullshit that might be lurking about my place and attempt to smother me in my sleep. So, I set the four traps last night and set the fumigator this morning before going to work, in the hopes of coming home and, like a child on Christmas Day, find a dead mouse in one of the traps. I found nothing. Four traps that still display "set" instead of "mouse caught". Empty fumigators, that have no doubt unleashed death and suffering upon ants and spiders that will now have to think twice before coming into my home. However, when it came to mice, I was still very much unsatisfied, and I demand satisfaction.
Tonight, as I was facebooking, blogging, or otherwise minding my own business, I saw a the quick shadow more, again, from the couch I was sitting in towards the back part of my big closet. What in the hell? Surely, this fucking mouse was going to show me a little respect and at least parade around my apartment in its underwear ONLY when I wasn't at home. This isn't the case, it seems, as not even five minutes later it started a diabolical game of peek-a-boo with me that would leave me scarred for life. After a few minutes of what some people would describe as "staring at Satan in the face", the mouse decided to get out from behind the big closet, give me the finger, and proceed to hurry to the back of my refrigerator.
I'm not asking for much, really. A dead mouse, that's it. Oh, Santa, will you please give me what I want this Christmas? It's OK, I have a bottle of wine to give me courage.