Worst. Weekend. Ever.

I was excited and prepared Friday to come home and write a nice happy post. Unfortunately, that has been postponed for a bit while I address more pressing issues, like traumatic life experiences.

After work on Friday Andrew and I had an appointment to check out an apartment. We viewed an incredibly awesome loft apartment (if I can persuade you, maybe you can persuade Andrew) and then walked back to my apartment to make dinner before heading out for our marriage study.

We were pretty hungry so Andrew walked straight into the kitchen while I put my jacket on the coat rack. We were not in my apartment for more than 15 seconds when Andrew shouts and leaps back.

"Oh boy," I thought, "not another one of those creepy-hairy-crawly things again." He had just killed one of those a week ago, but didn't react like that.

As if he's just seen a ghost he turns to me and says, "A mouse just ran across your counter." I think I stopped breathing at this point and was near fainting. De ja vu of last year's mouse fiasco.

I had heard voices in my neighbor's apartment as we walked up the stairs a few minutes earlier so I promptly recruited help. My downstairs neighbor was in the upstairs apartment so they both came to our rescue. They both non-nonchalantly said, "Yea, that mouse ran across both our counters this week too."

Um, What?! That is NOT okay!
1. Mice should not be running around rampant inside our apartments.
2. If mice do happen to romp around inside they should NOT be on the counter! They live in little holes in base boards and wander around the FLOOR! How do they get onto counters?

One neighbor said, "I have traps downstairs. Let's just take care of this." The other neighbor said, "There are humane traps you know. I'm outta here." And just like that, he left.

Andrew and the neighbor spent the next five minutes trying to figure out how to set the traps. Then they put peanut butter on them. "Peanut butter? I thought you were supposed to put cheese out for them," I said (obviously educated by cartoons). While they talked about their strategy for placing the traps that little rodent ran across the counter again. Again!! Ugh. Without getting to eat dinner Andrew and I dashed out to our study hoping for the best.

I could barely concentrate at the study. Between dreaming about future apartment possibilities and panicking about the thoughts of a mouse in my apartment, I was useless. And to top it off we shared mouse stories at the end, including ones about mice chewing off their legs to get out of the trap. Needless to say, we arrived back to my apartment with a plethora of situations to return to. Dead mouse. Mouse feet in the trap. A mouse hobbling around with a trap on it's leg. You name it, I was anticipating it. What I didn't anticipate was what actually happened. We returned 3 hours later and I waited in the car while Andrew went in to remove the dead mouse. Andrew walked upstairs and reappeared a few minutes later. But instead of going to the trash can he walked towards my car and says, "No mouse."

Great. I walked into my apartment, uncomfortable in my own haven. I stood on a chair while Andrew removed items on the counter one by one to look for the mouse. Why does this seem necessary? As foolish as it felt, standing on the chair just made me feel safer.

Saturday Andrew checked the trap. "Um..." he said, while staring in the corner with a flashlight.

"Um, what?!" I shrieked back.

"Um, worst possible scenario. The trap is gone."

"Um, what?! Where is the trap?!"

"Don't know."

I start having visions of a mouse that got snapped in the trap and is hobbling around trying to get through a crack with a big piece of wood following behind. Andrew moves a dresser and sees the trap underneath. He slowly moves the dresser to reveal the trap in its entirety. Entirely empty! The mouse ate all the peanut butter and got away!

"We just fed a mouse!" I yelled. "We just fed him and let him get away!"

Round two. Andrew decides that we'll put less peanut butter on the trap and we'll put it back out. We proceed to spend the rest of the day Saturday around the apartment making phone calls, emailing people, working on wedding details, etc. Mind you, in my studio we were never more than 8 feet from the trap. About 7:30PM Andrew decides to check the trap again. He'd been peaking throughout the day for a mouse near the trap and nothing. In fact, there are two traps. One on the counter behind the microwave where he was hiding last night. He checked both throughout the day.

Trap behind the microwave: Untouched. Trap on the floor 8 feet from Andrew: licked clean. Twice now, we've fed the mouse and let him get away!! Third time is a charm, right? Wrong! Sunday check-up. Clean. Not an trace of peanut butter and he got away. Obviously those traps were useless.

I happened to run into my neighbor in the parking lot and asked if they caught the mouse or if their traps were being licked clean as well. "No, our traps are out and untouched, he assured me. Before I could even walk back up stairs he emerged and said, "Scratch that. We've been robbed." At this point it was not as much of a surprise and almost funny. We'd all been duped by a mouse!

I went out Sunday afternoon and bought new package of traps. A different type of trap. One that assured victory. We set them out and to my disappointed they weren't touched at all Sunday night. It turns out the neighbors downstairs finally caught him on their kitchen counter Sunday evening.

A sad ending compensated only by that fact that the mouse had to have eaten twice his weight in peanut butter those last two days. RIP little guy.


PS The traps are still out in case he had any siblings or offspring. I'm sure you'll hear about it if he did.

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