Tuesday, December 2, 2008

Mouse in the House

A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle. Unless of course the fish had a mouse in her apartment that causes her to scream like a twelve year old girl at a Jonas Brothers concert.

So, last night I came home to the report from my roommate, Kerri, that she had seen a mouse in our kitchen. She was sitting on the couch, eating cereal, and awaiting my return in order to act. We crept toward the kitchen and caught a glimpse of it on the counter. We decided the best course of action was to go and ask or apartment manager, Leo to help us. 

Leo obliged our request, coming upstairs with a long metal rod (we don't know that the purpose of this tool is, exactly, but it was easily accessible and came in handy). Leo started banging around in the kitchen while Kerri and I stood on chairs in the living room, much to his amusement. "Why you scared?" he asked us in his thick Greek accent, which occasionally makes his words unintelligible. We had no real answer, but Kerri hesitantly asked, "Do you want me to help you?" She totally hoped he'd say no, but he, of course, said yes. Kerri went to help him while I remained safe on the chair. The mouse, that little bastard, scurried into a hole in the kitchen baseboards and disappeared. Leo told us he would patch the hole tomorrow, and set out a trap and some poison, reassuring us that the mouse was probably scared and wouldn't come back that night.

Kerri and I did the dishes and took out the garbage to make sure the peanut butter was the only desirable snack for the mouse, and then sat in the living room, watching Arrested Development and trying to calm down. I had just settled in and had my feet up on the coffee table, when the mouse ran from the kitchen, directly under the couch where I was sitting. "KERRI!!" I yelpd, while simultaneously jumping onto the arm of the couch. She came out and we decided to try to open the door and see if we could get it outside. We each stood on a chair next to the couch, and armed with brooms, decided to try to get it out. 

Unfortunately, the mouse decided to exit on my side of the couch. Upon seeing it, I screamed at the top of my lungs, jumped off of the chair, and ran into the hallway, where I started crying. I think this was perfectly reasonable, although Kerri was a little perturbed with me. I calmed down enough to re-enter the room, alternating the expressions, "I'm sorry" and "Oh, shit." It looked as though the mouse had hidden under a plastic bag on the floor. So, I grabbed a large bowl from the kitchen and Kerri put it over the bag, applying pressure with the broom as not to let the mouse escape. We listened: nothing. We decided it wasn't under there and Kerri swept the broom under the couch, but to no avail. "Maybe it is under the bowl?" I asked hopefully. Kerri hit the metal bowl with the broom handle "clang, clang clang." She stopped, and then we heard a "ping" from the bowl. This time we both screamed, prompting Leo to return to our apartment to investigate.

Just as he arrived, the mouse reappeared from under the couch (the "ping" was the metal popping back into place after it's beating with the broom handle). It ran straight for the kitchen and Kerri and I jumped back onto chairs. Leo, bless his  heart, crawled around on his hands and knees trying to get it. When it ran out and I screamed so loud I scared Leo, I was sent to my room in order stop making the whole situation worse. (This is where I totally wanted to be, but felt guilty leaving my roommate to handle things alone.)

I re-emerged to find that Leo had not found the mouse, but had propped up a card table on it's side, reinforced by a chair to hold it in place so that it would at least stay in the kitchen. I retreated to my room, praying fervently that there would be a dead mouse in my kitchen when I awoke this morning. 

Alas, there was not. So, if I seem a bit jumpy in the next few days, you will know why.  My roommate tried to tell me that it was more scared of me than I was of it-but I don't think the mouse started crying, so I'm not so sure about that. Part of me thinks that at 26 years old I should not be this scared of a mouse. But, then I imagine it scurrying around, and I am too distracted by my own chills and shuddering to worry about that. Ugh, wish me luck, friends.

P.S. Sorry this is the LONGEST blog ever, but I figure this way rather than making you all listen to me tell this story, those that are interested can just read it here. :)


  1. this should be fun to keep hearing about...

  2. I would be up on the chair with you Jess!!!

  3. Oh I get it! We had a mouse in our house that also made me burst into tears....it makes me feel all itchy and gross just thinking about it.

    BTW...this is Justin's sister, Nicole. Found you from Adriana and love reading your blog.

  4. HILARIOUS, Jess! I could totally picture the whole scene and its endearing that you burst into tears.

    I didn't realize that we had mice in our old place until "blackened rice" kept showing up all over our stovetop. Mouse poop! On the stovetop! Sucks.

  5. Haha- I don't know how I missed this post when it originally came through, but I enjoyed reading it today! So... what happened with the mouse? Your public demands an encore! :)