I have a confession to make. I have a pathological fear of mice. It's at the phobia level, essentially. Seeing them almost always reduces me to a puddle of tears, sweat and asthma.
The first thing people usually say to me when I tell them of this fear is, "Seriously? But you grew up on a farm. How can you be afraid of a little mouse?" Of course, only the people who know I grew up on a farm actually say that, I guess. I don't have an answer to that question. I have no idea why I am so terrified of something so small. I just am.
So, I freaked out a little bit when I ran into one of the people who live upstairs in my fouplex and she told me they had mice. I was really good about keeping my apartment clean. I was trying so hard to not give them anything to get into in my place in the hopes that they'd stay out. I'd even been eating over the sink, for Christ's sake.
And I really thought I'd been successful. I cleaned up really well after my Super Bowl party last night -- did dishes, put everything away where nothing could get at it and vacuumed everything, including the couch cushions.
Not five minutes after I'd finished all that, I was walking into the kitchen and saw a wee black spot scurry across the floor.
Fuck. I have a mouse.
I retreated to my room to contemplate my plan of action and a few minutes later, from my perch on the bed I saw it again, in the living room this time. So, I shut my bedroom door and called a friend who came to get me so I could sleep on his couch in his mouse-free apartment.
I'd put a box of d-con down on Saturday night. I wish I'd done it right when I bought it more than a week ago. My friend put the remaining three boxes down before we left last night. The guy I spoke to at my apartment management company said this would be their plan of action and I'd put down more than enough. He also said, they'd put d-con down in another apartment a week or so ago and the renters had seen a mouse the next day (just like me), but that was it.
I'm exhausted now. I didn't sleep well for a variety of reasons and I'm still sick. I don't think I can sleep on another couch, but I'm terrified to go home. Just thinking about it turns my stomach. But I don't really have any other options. I've got several hours to get my courage up.
I hate being a wuss.