Stupid Mouse...

As of yesterday morning, we have caught 18 mice in our house... I know... that's a lot of mice, but in our defense, we live next to two pastures and above a garage, so it is only to be expected. At least we don't have many bugs...

A few days ago, an incident happened that has been referred to since as "The Flyswatter Incident."

I had just got home from work and had stepped over the line of glue boards we have across the entrance to the kitchen to get a drink of water when the line of glue boards shuddered. I looked down and there was a mouse. But the dumb thing was barely on the board and would most likely be coming off before Justin could get home to take care of it. Muttering threats under my breath, I put on my big girl pants and brave face and grabbed the flyswatter. I'm sure you can see where this is going... I didn't at the time...

When a person uses a flyswatter, they hit quickly and then the reflex pulls their arm back... Well, I hit the mouse as hard as I could with the flyswatter and then proceeded to pull not only the glue board, but the now unconscious mouse attached to it back in the general direction of my face.

I admit here that I may have screamed a little... Not that it roused the mouse...

Anyway, of course the flyswatter is stuck to the board so to get it off, I step on the board... and get my shoes stuck to the board... WITH THE MOUSE ON IT!!!!

After prying myself off the board, I flipped on of the other boards on top of the mouse... just to make sure he's good and stuck before whacking it repeatedly in my irritation with the flyswatter. I grab a plastic grocery sack to put the mouse and the used boards in to take them down to the trash... it falls on the floor... on to the other glue boards...

So now my bag is stuck and my phone is ringing. It's Justin. He keeps apologizing for not being there to take care of it. I pry the bag off, carefully, but still manage to rip it a little. I'm still talking to Justin as I carry the bugger outside. As I'm walking down the stairs to the garbage can, Kevin and Sara's dog, Kyler, comes bounding up and smells the bag. I scold him in jest that "this is your job!" There is silence on the other end of the phone before I hear a softly muttered "sorry". Oh no! "I wasn't talking to you, Justin! I was talking to the dog!"