Monday, December 3, 2007

Mouses in the Houses

Not one word written over the weekend. I take that back. I had a flash while in the bathroom and wrote 300 words worth of ideas for scenes for my story, but in terms of actual words on the manuscript - nada, zip, big fat ZERO. What's my excuse?

Mice in the kitchen? No, seriously. Two mouses in the houses. Originally they were in the garage. The kids named them -- amigo one and amigo two. Sorta like Thing One and Thing Two from Dr. Seuss. Only that was when they were both living in the garage - not migrated to the house. So, one trip to Home Depot for some mouse poison last week accomplished the appropriate murder of one. Resulting smell had me in search of dead mice, one of which was under the refrigerator, stuck to the floor, in a gooey mass of gag. The other was still merrily raiding the shelves in the pantry, avoiding the mouse poison until I viciously removed all food and scattered poison all along the shelves. Said mouse has now stopped visiting, but I'm sure has died somewhere left to be smelled later. Where is this story going? Cleaning. That's where my weekend went. After discovering the icky disgusting mess under the fridge - not the least of which was the mouse (translate - spilled Koolaid, dead coupons, dog hair enough to rehair a dog sled team), I went on a tangent. Nothing remained untouched with the best invention known to man -- Chlorox with Bleach (God I love that stuff!) Blinds, shelves, windows, floors, cupboard fronts - I was a total maniac. The result is that my kitchen is all shiny clean. The pantry is next after I've rested a day or two (translate - avoid it for a day or two because I'm sure amigo two is hiding in there dead, dead, dead. ICK!)

My only dilemma is that this tangent left me not putting any words on paper for a book with a deadline of February 1st.

Thank God for BIAWs.

2 comments:

Carrie Lofty said...

Now you have no excuses....

Kelly McCrady said...

I prefer spring traps to D-Con. Can get rid of nasty dead mousie before he smelly...

We had a magpie at the Museum that liked a mouse for dinner once in a while, except he had the nasty habit of hiding every third one. I'd come in at seven am to the smell of DEAD SOMETHING in the exhibit and he'd sit on his post and chuckle at me until I found it. Nasty bird.