Mice Drama... Again

A year and a half ago, I had a mice problem. It was a travesty and put me into an irrational mental state late on a Sunday night.  The only way I was able to get through it was a bottle of Jameson (and at the time I didn't drink whiskey) and a friend who gave me moral support.  I called one... and I was half laughing... half crying... and all freaked out (you would be too if you heard the mice scratching for days and could hear them squeaking but couldn't do anything about it).

I thought the drama had passed me... but alas no.  I come home today and find the following.

Yes you see that right, it is a dead mouse on my kitchen floor. The worst part about it, is that I didn't discover it until I was getting ready to leave the kitchen. Can you imagine if I stepped on it (physical shutter here).

I wondered why Rockne didn't come down stairs after I walked in.  Eventually he ventured down, but refused to come down all of the way.

The princess wouldn't come down all of the way.  I didn't have the heart to tell him that mice can climb stairs.  He is such I wuss... or is he.  I have to wonder what the heck happened today while I was at work.  How did the mouse die?  Why is Rockne limping?


Now I had a dilemma.  As I examined the situation, I felt that I had three options:

1. Deal with the mouse situation (like a man). 
2. Call a man to deal with it for me. 
3. Have a nice swig of Jameson and then deal with the mouse situation. 

I opted for #3.  Besides, I was headed to class and figured a swig of Jameson couldn't hurt.

I dealt with the situation, walked to class, learned something, walked back, and found another mouse.

I am all over this drama.  If you live near me, expect two house guests if this continues.

A special thanks for my supportive friends on Facebook: