Of Mice And... Well...

I haven't posted for a couple of days for good reason - I haven't been in my basement. Heck, I've scarcely been in my house.

While watching the movie Adventureland at midnight Saturday, a mouse scurried across the far wall of the living room. And I scurried out the door. That's what city boys do, or at least the spineless ones.

As my car headed toward Wal-Mart, I wondered if I was experiencing the "fog of war" - that dazed feeling of adrenaline slowly working its way back to normal levels. I was all too glad to wander the aisles in the meantime, at last coming upon the display of rodent traps, of which I promptly cleared out half the stock. From the snack aisle, a container of peanut butter for bait. Cheap plastic cutlery for applying the peanut butter. And soon I was sitting in my car with the engine idling in the parking lot, some syndicated night-owl radio call-in show discussing the "third man syndrome" which as far as I could tell was about visits from a guardian angel brought on by LSD. But mostly I was too distracted like a mad scientist, carefully baiting a half-dozen traps in the front sat of my car and scheming where and how to place each strategically around the condo.

I placed the traps - then booked a room at the Signature Inn for the night.

Today I arranged a visit from Critter Control (not kidding). The fellow who looked much less nimble and much more composed than me inspected the place and determined a couple of places where telltale droppings indicated prime hiding spots. Then I had him install six bait-boxes at his recommendation - poison feed troughs that cause lethal internal bleeding once consumed up to 7% body weight. These kind of details were very important to me (not detailed here are the visual differences between fresh and "vintage" droppings). It should work within seven days. And he also suggested that the traditional snap-traps have the most well-established track record. So guess what Dr. Chickenstein did once he left? There are now 14 traps of 3 varieties in place. Peace has returned... at least the kind that soldiers feel once they've finished digging all the foxholes.