EEEEK!

We have a mouse issue.  For several months, we've seen signs that the small furry rodents have been sharing our abode.  They've stayed in the basement, but two weeks ago, when I turned on the light in the storage space, I saw one scurrying around under the house.  It wasn't a tiny thing, either.  That's when I told Kent I had had enough and I wanted to be rid of the rodents. 

He got some traps, and has bravely disposed of all the mice we have killed.  Sadly, the number has not been few.  I think he's found six or seven, if not more.  He filled in space between a pipe that was venting to the outside and had ample room for all sorts of creatures to enter.  He had been setting the traps further under the house, but tiring of climbing into the low roofed space, this week he set one right by the entrance, essentially next to the freezer I access practically every day.  With trepidation I have turned on the light each time I've been down there, hoping not to find a mouse dead in the trap.  I've been lucky.

Until today.

I went down to begin getting the Christmas decorations out from under the house, only to discover a sizable mouse dead in the trap.  Inconveniently, Kent was also gone for several hours.  This meant that rodent disposal fell to me.  As a mature adult, I realize that dealing with a dead mouse should not be a big deal, but the whole process gave me the heebie jeebies.  I had Blythe give me a pep talk, and she told me how a little mouse was no big deal, that I was brave and bold, and I could get the trap and its dead occupant into a plastic bag and thrown away outside without a problem.  "A dead mouse can't hurt you, Mom," she repeated. 

Over and over.

Because truthfully, I couldn't do it.  There was just something about moving that body onto the dustpan and into the bag that freaked me out.  I went downstairs three times and came right back up after seeing that thing, unable to act.  I felt frozen.  It was just too creepy. 

But Kent wasn't home, he wasn't going to get home quickly, and I wanted to get decorating.  So, after more prompting/shaming from Blythe, I went down a fourth and final time.  With gloved hands, a paint stir stick and the dustpan, I was able to "bravely" remove the corpse from the house, sanitize, and move forward with decorating. 

Now I'm praying that this was the last mouse we have for a long long long long long time, if ever again.

Me, not super brave, off to dispose of this: