It’s about 10 p.m. I am halfway through another episode of The First 48, (my favorite TV show) when I hear an a-rappa-tap-tap in the kitchen.
It’s about 10 p.m. I am halfway through another episode of The First 48, (my favorite TV show) when I hear an a-rappa-tap-tap in the kitchen.
Long-time readers of this blog know about my struggles with mice in my new apartment building. At first I thought my neighbor kept pigs and then the mice somersaulted through my kitchen.
I eventually started fighting back, which meant that the dogs got hold of the poison mouse blocks and I dealt with “no mess” mouse traps that created pools of stinky mouse blood.
In short, the mouse situation was a flaming hot mess for a very long time.
I sort of gave up during these past few months. I still kept all food refrigerated or covered and occasionally put out poison blocks, but I basically resigned myself to vacuuming up mouse crap every few days and using ungodly amounts of Lysol.
Then while at Wal-Mart this weekend I see a display of mouse-glue-pads.
