Dec 22, 2021 21:41
My home has been invaded by a plague of mice, who are eating my books. This means War! I've had the exterminator in, and every corner is abristle with alluring poisons, springed peanut butter, and peppermint oil. I am sorry, gentler folk. Wee, sleekit, tim'rous, cow'ring beasties who saw-edge my first editions and chew the fringes of my heirloom carpet get no mercy from me.
Nine
Update, Thursday:
I've heard no scrabbling today, so fingers crossed.
Now I find that the plague has been advancing from neighbor to neighbor for weeks. The damned new super has handled this appallingly badly. Feh! Chet (who was here for over 40 years) would looked out for the very earliest signs, gotten word from his network of supers, and notified everyone in the building at once. He would have had the exterminator come before the invasion, set bait round the exterior, throughout the basement, and in every apartment.
The new guy waited until the bastards had taken hold. There was even a trustees meeting, and the mice weren't mentioned.
9