Dear Future Husband,
Oh. My. God! There was a mouse in the house! But I didn’t panic. I didn’t pack up my things and abandon the place. I did the very grown up, brave thing to do, and patched the hole in the wall, where I think the mouse came in, and I bought mouse traps….20 of them to be exact. Okay, maybe I went a bit overboard, but I was determined to catch a mouse!
The guy at Ace Hardware showed me exactly how to set up and bait the traps, which I did with great precision. The peanut butter applied to each trap was enough to tempt any mouse, but especially one who hadn’t eaten in days. Um, yeah. it came to the wrong place looking for food. So at this point it was either going to be caught in the trap or it was going to starve to death. But I needed it to die in the corner, in a trap, and not wake up to a dead mouse in the middle of my floor! Do you know how horrified I would’ve been?!
Hooray for a multitude of well baited mouse traps! This morning the mouse was dead. And not only was it dead, but the force of the trap caused the trap to flip over and was on top of the mouse. That was God’s grace by the way, because He knew I couldn’t stomach seeing the nasty thing lying there dead on my floor.
I know you’re probably thinking, “Yes! I knew my brave girl could do it,” but really, this is where I freak out. Yeah, I know I talked about being brave…that was yesterday. Today is a new day and all bravery is gone. Anxiety kicked in and all I could think about was how was I going to get rid of this dead mouse? After showering and getting dressed I left the house, because I needed time to think this through. You know, kinda like turning down the radio in the car so you can find the address you’re looking for. Should I ask a stranger walking down the street to come in and sweep it up for me? But then I thought I better not do that because he might come back later and kill me. Next thought was, is there a handyman service I can call, who specifically pick up dead mice for single women? Hey, that’s not a bad idea, you just have to charge enough so it’s worth the gas you’ll use getting to the next customer. Anyway, I digress. What was I going to do? Think Robin, think. Call the ex and ask him to get off the train, come sweep up the mouse, and then get back on the train to get to work? No, that wasn’t going to work. What to do? I eventually reached out to a friend and asked him if he’d come help me. And, like good friends do, he got out of bed and drove 20 minutes away to come sweep up the mouse. Thank God for friends!
Now the mouse is dead and gone and I can get back to mourning the lost of my great aunt. I pray to God, if there is a next time, you’ll be here to handle it because I’m not built for this, and I don’t know how many more times I can call a friend.