Guess who is in there? Yep. Mouse Number Seven.
I'm too freaked out to open the drawer and look, but I KNOW because I can hear him in there, trying to escape from the trap. Little scritch-scratchy sounds, slowly driving me insane, like in the Tell Tale Heart.
Kev isn't here. He had to work the night shift last night to support the launch (finally!) of his project. During dinner, we watched the rocket carrying the satellites head up to space to get them into orbit. So cool. I got a little teary-eyed during separation. So, Step 1: Getting the things to space, seems to be a success. Now, the hard part, getting them to do what they're supposed to do up there. I have confidence. But it's mind-boggling to me, all this space stuff. Amazing.
Here's what I want to know. If all these scientists can get rockets and satellites and things to space, why can't they invent something REALLY useful, like personal forcefields? Because that is what I need. Then I could stop worrying about mice crawling on me or scurrying across my feet.
We are still going through an almost daily Catch and Release ritual with these mice. I have this mental image of hundreds, maybe THOUSANDS, of mice, having a big mouse party under my house. Soon, they are going to become organized and plan their take-over. They will come streaming out of the oven drawer in a big mouse wave, with their little round ears and stringy tails. It probably doesn't help that I'm reading a Stephen King novel, but I think I'm going a little crazy. The mice are winning.
I'm not sure how much more of this I can take. We are a "no-kill" kind of family, but these are desperate times. One of these days, Kev is going to come home and find me huddled up in a corner (up on a chair, of course!), rocking back and forth, slowly humming some creepy children's song like Three Blind Mice over and over.
I'm only sort of kidding.
On a happier note, Daphne and I had a fun day yesterday. Lunch, book store, Sweet Frog, playground. I love the Polar Vortex.