Mice Turds and TG Wishes

The mouse, or whatever it is, keeps evading my trap and crapping on my floor. I’m pretty sure, as odd as it might sound, that he’s living in the sofa. I’d live in the sofa if I were in his place. It’s nice and warm, and comes with all of the material you would need to build a nest. And, just outside, is the biggest, nicest, hardwood floor TOILET anyone, mouse or man, could ask for. The irony of all this (although the level of irony may be less than I suspect since I have what is expected in the mountains, but did not have what is expected in Manhattan, which would make Manhattan full of more irony, which is probably how it should be since I'm not sure exactly how much irony is available to go around here in the mountains) to me is that I lived in NY for five years and never once had a rat or mouse problem. After the first two months where I made certain adjustments to my environment, mostly chemical, I never had roaches either. However, here in the woods in a state of the art, tightly sealed, modern log cabin, I have a mouse, spiders, squirrels chewing on the exterior, and what I believe to be bats or birds living in the roof (not in my belfry). Don’t get me wrong; in a way it is what I’d expect. Whatever.

So, I switched from peanut butter to a nice slice of extra sharp Vermont white cheddar. It was the only cheese I had. I’ve decided the reason people hate mice is not because they carry disease, and it isn’t because people find little holes in their food from time to time. The reason people hate mice is because of the fact that mice crap in the middle of your floor. The sheer audacity, not to mention rudeness of the act drives people mad. Mice are small; they could crap in a corner of your house you never look at, or under your fridge, or in their own little burrow. They taunt you with their little jimmies of defiance, of humiliation. They say, “Look at me, I’m crappin’ on your floor and there is nothing you can do about it.” Well bygod , there is something I can do. Either he goes humanely into that little trap by the time I return from Thanksgiving, or I’m going to have to raise the stakes and get some more “permanent” solutions. Or, at least he could crap somewhere I don’t see it. I swear, if I find his little home, I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to leave him a little (sic) present. Where did I put that flax seed?

On an unrelated note, I hope everyone has a nice Thanksgiving, unless you’re from another country and don’t understand why we celebrate the first handshake, which delivered the European virus upon the land that infected everything and eventually mutated into the society we have now, that is fine. You’re not missing much, except for the hugs and some gas. For you I wish a well deserved extended weekend. The turkeys are blurry because the photo was taken from my car while I was leaving the encampment.