Several years ago, we had a problem with mice.
Well, not exactly a problem.
We just didn’t want to live with them anymore.
Photo source: LuisRock62
Ed pulled out our trusty trap and searched the fridge for the tastiest of baits. He even consulted me on the options because we all know that I am well versed in “desirable mouse morsels”. We both agreed that a dollop of Cambazola would do the trick.
He went down to the basement and set the mousetrap.
That was three years ago.
The other day, I looked underneath one of the storage shelves and noticed some fluff from The Kids dress-up clothes.
Except it wasn’t fluff.
It was three year old mouse.
I guess that explains why we haven’t had any mouse problems in a while.
Say three years.
Truth be told, I’ve known about the “pile of fluff” for a while. For arguments sake, let’s say two years, 11 months. Every time I go down to the basement, I see the fluff and think that it’s a rogue feather boa. Because, yes, we have a lot of rogue feather boas around here. And every time, I come back up and either remind Ed about the mouse or forget about it. Kind of like that mosquito carcass on my wall.