Thursday night our house will be jammed packed for a fund-raiser supporting a charity close to our hearts. And I mean jammed packed!
The food will be plentiful, wine will flow, and if everyone shows up that have RSVP'd, it will be standing room only... Which is not exactly what I'd planned. Of course when invitations were mailed, we were hopeful all would attend but the reality is our house isn't that big... And, this is a fund-raiser, on a week night, and the odds of 100% participation are usually slim to none.
Call me one lucky (or crazy) girl but I have my fingers crossed that a big turnout means a lot of much need funds will be raised.
But...one uninvited dinner guest has already arrived-- Two days early! And he (gawd, I'm praying it's a HE) is very hungry.
Bright and early Tuesday morning, my husband called me into the kitchen with a tone of voice usually reserved for big scary spiders that he wants me to deal with. I padded in still blurry-eyed, expecting to remove the creepy crawling bugger, but instead he asked if I'd recently eaten an apple-- Which I definitely had not.
Upon closer examination, I realized, based on the teeth marks, that we had a good sized mouse (please gawd, not a rat) hanging out in our kitchen.
Damn it!
Several traps smeared with peanut butter were immediately set-- Traps leftover from a mouse scare about this time last year. There were no mice then, but there is no doubt at least one mouse is definitely in our house now! (Please, please, please gawd, just one!)
But the traps in the kitchen did not work and last night as were were getting ready for bed, mouse poop greeted us on our bathroom sink. At that point I was totally creeped out and there was absolutely no way I was sleeping in our adjacent bedroom.
About the time my husband rolled his eyes at me for the third time arguing that we did not have to sleep upstairs in the guest room, the little black mouse, now fattened up by all the apples he's eaten in the last 36 hours, ran across the room and back into the bathroom. To say that got my husband's attention is an understatement.
We slammed the doors closed, ran for the traps in the kitchen, reset them in the bathroom-- now that our critter was captive, and banged around so the mouse would stay under the vanity until we were out of the bathroom. We slept peacefully in the guest room sure we'd have a fat mouse in one of the many traps in the morning.
We did not. No mouse, but all traps were snapped closed and peanut butter foot prints were everywhere.
Today my dear, fearless friend has arrived to take matters into her own hands. As I type this post, she's locked in the bedroom in search of the mouse. She's talking to the rodent in a nice sweet voice as she digs through my closet, under my sink, and through the vanity. I can hear her taking the bed linens off, and working methodically through the rooms. Every now and then she shouts her progress to me on the opposite side of the door-- Lots of poop, everywhere. I can't believe she's doing this. What a great friend.
My fingers and toes are all crossed that she's successful, at which point I will be eternally grateful and in her debt for the rest of my life. If, by chance, the fat pain in my behind has left the bedroom and moved to other parts of the house, I'm prepared with all of this...
The party is tomorrow night. If we are not successful I can just imagine-- The buffet table fulled with tri-tip sliders, grilled salmon, numerous side dishes, and the big, fat, black mouse racing from dish to dish on the buffet thinking he's hit the mother load of food, and not caring one bit about the 40+ people gasping in shock. That outta motivate people to reach for their checkbooks, don't you think?
Oh. My. Gawd! These traps better work-- Fast.
Any advice?
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