Sunday, October 11, 2009

Cloggers Ain't Got Nothin' On Me

I am certain my children have memories of me dancing and singing around the house, it's something I have always done - in spite of the very evident fact that I am not talented in either singing OR dancing.

However, I highly doubt that even my children who have seen me prancing around like Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music would believe what I am doing these days. Every day, several times a day.

Since we are still dealing with the mouse issue, I have put out poisoned bait for the little critters in several places (well, the exterminator guy has - I am too paranoid to even think about touching anything related to a mouse). One place he put the bait is on the floor beneath some pantry shelving. This shelving is open to the kitchen and not hidden behind some lovely slatted pantry door, but I call it pantry shelving anyway. It makes me feel more high class.

Last week,  when I wandered innocently into my high class kitchen, I disturbed a little feast that was going on (exactly what we want, but exactly what I don't want to be part of). My sudden appearance, brazenly walking right into my kitchen without warning, disturbed the two mice who were gnawing on the cube of poisoned grain and off they ran - in two directions - sending me into a piercing scream as I retreated as if the place was on fire, arms waving, heart thumping, nearly tripping over my own feet. It should be funny, but it wasn't.

So now, to avoid any surprises I start stomping my feet and yelling (think: Indian Rain Dance Chanting) before I even set one foot in the kitchen. Honestly, I start stomping about 4 feet down the hall, just to give them a warning so they can scamper away without me seeing them. And I no longer look down. Mice are quiet, so if you don't see them, you rarely know they are there. (I know they are there, but I am sooo trying to be in denial so that I can sleep at night, etc.)

Anyway, back to my version of the Indian Rain Dance. It's a vision, I know. Moi - stomping, ranting, flailing and looking to the heavens every time I walk into my kitchen. It's a reality and a memory no one should have to deal with. Kind of like some people feel about clogging...

Anyway, needless to say, I am eating out a lot. The kitchen has become exhausting and scary.

But I must add that we (the exterminator - Gary - and I) are getting them; I no longer find droppings in other rooms of the house. I think we are down to these last two and if I keep dancing and screaming and stomping I have no doubt that they will skittle out of the kitchen for good....kind of like my kids did so very long ago.

The exterminator comes tomorrow. But I am gonna keep dancing anyway.

I am looking to the heavens even now in gratitude...hiyaheyalaleyheyayahayahihayaya. Stomp.


American Indian Chant

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