If You Give A Mouse Your Bedroom…
Living in the tropics is a fantasy come true, but with all its glory comes some annoyances. Mother Nature can be tough on us, especially in the summer months. She seems to be a trickster because she is constantly testing us with high heat and humidity. Now in reality, I believe she isn’t a cruel Goddess, but then again, she certainly isn’t the best at problem solving. For instance, where are all the critters supposed to live when the heat becomes unbearable? Did she provide homes for them? No, they have been forced to skitter into your home when you are distracted.
Recently, I noticed the markings of a mouse living in my home. Each morning, there were new scatterings all over the house. After much detective work, I concluded that he was living in my spare bedroom, but ventured out at night to party. At this point, I was feeling cocky… “I’ve got you now, you little beast,” I exclaimed. Then it hit me, memories of readings I shared with my daughters all those years ago, I laughed.
If you give a mouse your bedroom, he will probably ask to party in your house while you sleep.
Well, I have changed the words somewhat, but the same concept applies.
I was thrown into a war that I did not want to fight. If I had been a congress woman, I would have voted a definite NO. I don’t like war, but what choice did I have. There was no diplomatic way to talk him out of my house, no other country who was his friend who could to talk sense into him. I was stuck.
I started my warfare by closing the bedroom door. “Ha! No more partying at night, you little beast.” My next move was to drive to the store in search of weapons. I came home with sticky trays and delicious snacks to lay on the floors of my tenant’s home.
Each morning for about a week, I would check the food and sticky tray. This guy was way too smart to step into the goop but he was eating his refreshments. He still left me evidence, however, that he was able to run around the room, ugh! One tough cookie, my enemy was. I knew it had to be just a matter of time, so as any good hostess would do, I replenished his munchies.
After about day eight, an odd thing happened.
There was sawdust that had spread from the inside of the door to the hallway outside his room, suggesting he was attempting to eat his way out. This guy was desperate. Where he got the energy to do this is beyond me. I quickly found the box I was feeding him from to make sure it was not a treat but an actual weapon. It was tough reading, still working on my Espanol, but I did determine that the weapon ingredient was part of his diet.
That night, I was up late when I heard the vicious sounds of this guy trying to eat his way out. I had realized earlier that day that he was actually eating a thin board that frames my magic box (That’s the name I gave my air conditioner. When my dog gets too hot, I tell her to go stand by the magic box). I became angry with his sounds, he had totally outstayed his time in my house. I went to the door and threw it open. He must have scurried under the bed. Good, we didn’t need to have eye contact. I stormed over to the window and opened it. I looked toward the bed and shook my head before leaving the room. I went back to my work only to hear him trying to chew through the wooden frame again! “I thought you were smart, you dummy!”
I had to wait two mornings before I was convinced he had finally left through the window. I heard a chorus singing in my head, the sun came out; the walls in my bedroom seemed to be smiling. The war had ended, and I assume with no casualties. Life improved that day for Rani and me. We didn’t like sharing our home, the nightmare was over.
Did I learn anything? Sure. Never give your bedroom to a mouse.
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Got comments? You will find the comment box below this story.
__________________________________________________________
You can read all about drama in my novels. Check them out at www.cmichaelsbooks.com, author of Twisted Thrillers.
__________________________________________________________
Recently, I noticed the markings of a mouse living in my home. Each morning, there were new scatterings all over the house. After much detective work, I concluded that he was living in my spare bedroom, but ventured out at night to party. At this point, I was feeling cocky… “I’ve got you now, you little beast,” I exclaimed. Then it hit me, memories of readings I shared with my daughters all those years ago, I laughed.
If you give a mouse your bedroom, he will probably ask to party in your house while you sleep.
Well, I have changed the words somewhat, but the same concept applies.
I was thrown into a war that I did not want to fight. If I had been a congress woman, I would have voted a definite NO. I don’t like war, but what choice did I have. There was no diplomatic way to talk him out of my house, no other country who was his friend who could to talk sense into him. I was stuck.
I started my warfare by closing the bedroom door. “Ha! No more partying at night, you little beast.” My next move was to drive to the store in search of weapons. I came home with sticky trays and delicious snacks to lay on the floors of my tenant’s home.
Each morning for about a week, I would check the food and sticky tray. This guy was way too smart to step into the goop but he was eating his refreshments. He still left me evidence, however, that he was able to run around the room, ugh! One tough cookie, my enemy was. I knew it had to be just a matter of time, so as any good hostess would do, I replenished his munchies.
After about day eight, an odd thing happened.
There was sawdust that had spread from the inside of the door to the hallway outside his room, suggesting he was attempting to eat his way out. This guy was desperate. Where he got the energy to do this is beyond me. I quickly found the box I was feeding him from to make sure it was not a treat but an actual weapon. It was tough reading, still working on my Espanol, but I did determine that the weapon ingredient was part of his diet.
That night, I was up late when I heard the vicious sounds of this guy trying to eat his way out. I had realized earlier that day that he was actually eating a thin board that frames my magic box (That’s the name I gave my air conditioner. When my dog gets too hot, I tell her to go stand by the magic box). I became angry with his sounds, he had totally outstayed his time in my house. I went to the door and threw it open. He must have scurried under the bed. Good, we didn’t need to have eye contact. I stormed over to the window and opened it. I looked toward the bed and shook my head before leaving the room. I went back to my work only to hear him trying to chew through the wooden frame again! “I thought you were smart, you dummy!”
I had to wait two mornings before I was convinced he had finally left through the window. I heard a chorus singing in my head, the sun came out; the walls in my bedroom seemed to be smiling. The war had ended, and I assume with no casualties. Life improved that day for Rani and me. We didn’t like sharing our home, the nightmare was over.
Did I learn anything? Sure. Never give your bedroom to a mouse.
__________________________________________________________
Got comments? You will find the comment box below this story.
__________________________________________________________
You can read all about drama in my novels. Check them out at www.cmichaelsbooks.com, author of Twisted Thrillers.
__________________________________________________________
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