Mice!
In a previous post, I spoke about happiness being a slow cooker, or part of it. Now, I will talk about unhappiness being a dead mouse on your kitchen floor when you get up in the morning. Yes, it is true. There was a dead mouse on my kitchen floor.
Now, let me explain. The exterminator put poison behind the stove to kill the mice, and told me that they would eat the poison then go back down the mouse hole and die. He was right about one point, the mice did eat the poison; however, one mouse decided not to go back down the mouse hole to die, it went out to my kitchen floor to die! So there I am just getting up in the morning. Just picture me wandering in to make coffee, still in my nightgown and not wearing my glasses. I see some sort of lump in the floor...a greyish-colored lump with a stringy thing sticking out of one side. I asked myself "Is that left-over fluffity fur?" (fur left over from my cat Sylvester that I nicknamed fluffity because he was a long-haired fluffy cat. He died a couple of years ago, but when cleaning I still occasionally find fur behind things.) After staring at it for a few minutes, I THEN asked myself "Is that a dead mouse?"
I walked over to it slowly, only to confirm that it was indeed a dead mouse. So, I called my sister to tell her that I had a dead mouse on my floor. (I had to tell someone.) Because the super of the building was not here, I had to clean it up myself. I got my dust pan with the tall handle out so that I didn't have to come too close to it and scooped it up, but it was stuck to the floor, so some of it's skin tore off and stuck to the floor (Yucky, huh?). Anyway, I looked at it a felt a little bit sorry for it, it was so cute with its little round ears and cute nose, its eye were closed and mouth was slightly open, it must have been panting as it died. I threw it in the garbage anyway.
I would rather the super close the hole so that the mice do not continue to get into my apartment than my having to see mice who died painful deaths. Anyway, tht's all for now.
Now, let me explain. The exterminator put poison behind the stove to kill the mice, and told me that they would eat the poison then go back down the mouse hole and die. He was right about one point, the mice did eat the poison; however, one mouse decided not to go back down the mouse hole to die, it went out to my kitchen floor to die! So there I am just getting up in the morning. Just picture me wandering in to make coffee, still in my nightgown and not wearing my glasses. I see some sort of lump in the floor...a greyish-colored lump with a stringy thing sticking out of one side. I asked myself "Is that left-over fluffity fur?" (fur left over from my cat Sylvester that I nicknamed fluffity because he was a long-haired fluffy cat. He died a couple of years ago, but when cleaning I still occasionally find fur behind things.) After staring at it for a few minutes, I THEN asked myself "Is that a dead mouse?"
I walked over to it slowly, only to confirm that it was indeed a dead mouse. So, I called my sister to tell her that I had a dead mouse on my floor. (I had to tell someone.) Because the super of the building was not here, I had to clean it up myself. I got my dust pan with the tall handle out so that I didn't have to come too close to it and scooped it up, but it was stuck to the floor, so some of it's skin tore off and stuck to the floor (Yucky, huh?). Anyway, I looked at it a felt a little bit sorry for it, it was so cute with its little round ears and cute nose, its eye were closed and mouth was slightly open, it must have been panting as it died. I threw it in the garbage anyway.
I would rather the super close the hole so that the mice do not continue to get into my apartment than my having to see mice who died painful deaths. Anyway, tht's all for now.
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