I know I've been missing for a week but here's the thing: my sister's wedding is in less than 10 days. I have been finishing centerpieces, favors and little details of the wedding.
Every night has been the same: go home, cook dinner, pop a movie to play in the background while I get some crafting wedding stuff done. My husband has graciously been helping me so that's good.
I'm hoping that once we get to my parent's house next weekend, I'll find time in the 3 days we'll be there to upload some pictures to Blogger but we'll see. It might be crazy and hectic and I won't even remember that I have a camera, let alone a blog. That's also why my husband will be the photographer for the weekend. He remembers these things.
The title of this post was because I really didn't have anything new to write about so I thought I'd write about my encounters with mice. And men (not really on the men part).
Mouse story #1: Once upon a time, I lived with my roommate Sarah in an apartment. It was wonderful. The closet was huge, we had our own rooms and the pool was perfect for laying out. Coincidentally, this is where I spent many Saturday's trying desperately to get
The next day, Sarah got some traps from someone at her bible study. We set the traps out and waited. They were the sticky kind so at least (hopefully) we wouldn't see any severed heads or anything. Although we had heard stories of mice getting trapped and chewing their own feet off in a desperate attempt to escape. EWWWWW.
I don't remember how long it took to get the mouse but I do remember coming home and Sarah telling me that she had found it. Trapped. In the mouse trap. Instead of coming remotely near to it, she called a guy friend who promptly came over and disposed of our mouse.
Oh yes, and because she's Sarah, she took pictures to show me. Even though I didn't want to come near the vile vermin, I did still want to see the gory details. It wasn't the size of a rat, but it might as well have been for all we cared.
Mouse story #2: Once upon a time, I lived with a lovely girl named Laura in a guest house that was settled in the canyons of Santa Clarita. The house was old - made completely of bricks. We called it the Pride & Prejudice house because of how it looked. I loved that house. I loved Laura. I did not love our landlord because she was a crazy. But for the 9 months we lived there, it was good.
One day, Laura informed me that she thought we might have a mouse. Again, shudder. Gross. Eww. Hate non-invited roommates. Apparently she had heard some scratching while in her bedroom so she set some traps around our rooms and kitchen area (also the sticky kind).
The next day when I got home, Laura informed me that she had found the mouse in the trap UNDER HER BED. She had left it there because there wasn't a chance that she was going near that thing. But now it was late at night and she needed to go to bed. So we decided we didn't have a choice and had to tackle it together.
First, she lifted up the bed skirt. We both looked straight into the demon eyes of the mouse and screamed and ran back into the kitchen. We would later see that the mouse would poop itself out of fear from the two giant humans screaming in it's face.
Then slowly, laughing and crying, we went back into the bedroom - this time armed with a pair of tongs. I slowly grabbed the end of the trap with the tongs, screaming the entire time. I mean, full on screaming. Like the mouse was crawling up my leg, except it wasn't. But I acted like it was. I slid the trap into a paper bag from Trader Joe's and Laura quickly rolled the top and ran the bag outside - screaming, laughing and whimpering the whole time.
We moved out a month later.