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In an interesting parallel ... I am also having a mouse invasion.
Different mouse. And as far as I know it didn't accompany me home in my luggage on my last trip to slangsylvania.
However, I got one of the little bastards loose in here.
Well ... perhaps I used to.
Suspicion of the existence of the mouse-guest resulted in a trip to the fine Sears Home Center store that is three miles from my residence.
Took me a while to find the aisle of mouse-death, which I found to be near the lovely garden center "walk of poison spray."
I was confronted by a vast array of pest-ridding devices for pests in a variety of sizes and hardiness of constitution.
I ultimately selected some poison bait blocks (still unopened, incidentally ... they represent my stockpile of weapons of mouse-destruction) and a pair of sticky traps.
I set the sticky traps in two likely spots in the living room, along the wall where I have noted he likes to take his evening constitutional.
One morning I was rushing out to work and noticed the sticky trap was GONE.
Missing.
Not where I left it.
Worrisome.
But I had to be at work and was already running late.
When I returned home I began my search ... looked around the original placement area ... nothing.
Moved the couch.
No mouse. No trap ....
Started to worry.
I clearly was dealing with something out of the ordinary ... supernatural ... perhaps mousezilla ... or even something larger and scarier. Tried to remember prices of the rat-sized sticky traps and calculate whether I could make it to the Sears Home Center before closing ...
Finally found the trap. Empty (nearly) in another corner of the room. The little bastard had apparently scooched himself across the floor until he reached a child-sized rocking chair. He had maneuvered the trap under the back of the rocker, and somehow managed to scrape or lever himself off of the sticky trap.
I did confirm that the culprit was a mouse though ... plenty of little mousehairs, mouse pee, and mouse turds released in terror during the struggle.
Bought the snap traps the next day. Fuck this sticky-shit. I want him DEAD.
The snap traps remain untouched.
Mouse either died of fright as a consequence of his sticky-trap adventure, or said to himself "fuck this shit, I'm heading next door where they leave the twinkies out on the counter. "
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