I Don’t Need To Move

March 14, 2005

Rob went out and bought this trap after the bowl/cage fiasco. The fiasco that involved him tearing out newly taped sheetrock when the weseal ran behind it. It wasn’t pretty.

So we bought and caught it in a havahart trap. Then fearless Rob put it into his car and drove it far far away.

“How it got into your house?”
“Why, it crawled up a hole from the basement to the old laundryroom,” she answers like that is a normal occurence in all American homes

Doesn’t everyone have holes in their floors?

That area of the house is sealed off from our living area of the house by a door in the kitchen. However, we still need to walk through it to get to our new laundry room. It is still pitifully under construction. But this weasel in the house incident has definitely moved putting up walls and sealing off holes in the floor to the front of the home improvement list.

I told Rob this weekend that I feel like I live in a crack house, just without the crack. Yup, a crack house with a really big mortgage and no illegal drugs.

Pop Goes The Weasel

March 12, 2005

Feel free to sing along and do the heebie jeebie dance and shout expletives along with me. Because some situations just call for cursing

All around the big yellow house
The father chased the weasel
The mother screamed,
The children did run.

I’m not joking
It’s a weasel.

The father caught him under a bowl,
A stinky smelly weasel.
but how do we get him
out of the house.

I’m not joking
It’s a weasel.

The father says the weasel is cute.
The mother screams “just kill it”**
The children cry, “But we want a pet!”

No joke
It’s a fucking weasel.

The father and brave son stare at the bowl
under which is the goddam weasel.
Oh how do we get it
Into a cage

This disgusting
Fucking weasel.

They come up with an intricate plan,
Involving wood and cages,
but things go wrong
the fault of brave son.

It’s loose again,
fucking weasel.

** By “kill it” I didn’t mean literally kill it. I meant more along the lines of get it the hell out of my house in any way possible.

Of Mice And Screaming Women

March 11, 2005

Following our attempts to catch the “mouse” last night, I present the following scenarios and the conclusions could be drawn from them.

1)Finding a trap that has the bait missing from it, but isn’t sprung. I had hoped it meant the trap was old and not so springy, but attempting to pick up the trap set that fear at ease.

Conclusion: The “mouse” is smart and is mocking me from his hiding spot.

2) Finding a trap that has sprung, but there is nothing in the trap.

Conclusion: the “mouse” is too large to get caught in a measly mousetrap and is mocking me from his hiding spot.

3) Finding that the bait and trap are missing.

Conclusion:the “mouse” is dragging a trap around that is attached to one of it’s appendages and is plotting against me from his hiding spot.

4) All three of these scenarios.

Conclusion: Some sort of super “mouse”. Who mocks me, plots against me, and is otherwise messing with my mind.

I fear I am in a bad horror movie where all the animals go crazy.

Soon my windows are going to be covered with flies and I am am going to be chased down by a rabid St Bernard, while being pecked to death by a flock of birds.

Have A Heart, Trap That Is

March 10, 2005

How is your day going? That’s nice. How’s mine you ask?

Well, today I was going into my mudroom from my kitchen when out of the corner of my eye I saw something scurry near some pipes that lead to the basement. I screamed, because I whole heartedly embrace the rodent fearing female stereotype, and ran out of the room.

But, after thinking about it more thoroughly, I convinced myself that I saw nothing but a shadow or a dust bunny… a dust MOUSE! Yes, that’s it! An innocuous DUST MOUSE!

A few hours later, my 7 yr old walked into the mudroom and screamed. My 10 yr old, who has probably inherited all my worst qualities, pushed everyone down that was in his way and ran over everyone else to get as far away as he possibly could. My 9 yr old, the only brave one in the family, quickly ran into the mudroom.

Then he began screaming “Get me a gun!”

Oh yeah, that’s a good idea! A 9 yr old with a gun. A 9 yr old with ADHD and poor judgment, shooting a gun in the house, surrounded by other people. I am not sure which disturbs me more, the fact that he thinks I might actually give him a gun or the fact that it was his first thought upon seeing the mouse.

But I pushed those thoughts out of my mind…la la la. I have a more important pressing issue at hand than delving into my son’s possible mental instability.

I tell him that I regret to inform him that we have no gun, and furthermore people don’t shoot mice.

“But Mom, it isn’t a mouse. It’s bigger, much, MUCH bigger.”

What? What did they mean by bigger?

I had the heebie jeebies just thinking about it. But I was sitting on my kitchen stool with my legs safely tucked up under me, so I didn’t get up to look. Because, you know, it might just run up my legs and gnaw at my kneecaps.

At this point 9 yr old is inside the kitchen and the 7 yr old is still in the mudroom and a fight breaks out over the door that separates the two rooms. The 10 yr old is screaming close the door. The 9 yr old is trying to close the door, like the obedient underling that he is. The 7 yr old is trying to get in the house away from the much MUCH bigger mouse that he says is looking at him.

Finally I scream over the hysterical children. “For the love of God, if it is as big as you say it is, let your brother in the house before that mouse eats him!”

Okay, that was so NOT the right thing to say. Trust me on that one.

So now the kids are trying to explain to me what the thing is. We have established it isn’t a mouse or squirrel.

I googled mole, nope.

I googled gopher, nope.

I googled weasel, nope.

I will not google rat. I refuse.

Because if my children look at the picture and identify it as what they saw, I’ll have no choice but to move out.

And burn the house to the ground.

And that would totally suck.