After finding a few more near the kitchen garbage can, it suddenly dawned on me: the creepy chocolate sprinkles were actually MOUSE POOP! Screaming commenced.
I ended up taking a mental health day from work, during which I altered between furious cleaning and passing out due to anxiety medicine. In the mean time, Matt was slightly more productive and called the rental agency. A pest control guy would be there on Monday. By my count, that was three days away, so I'd have to do something about the poop myself. Not cool.
After dinner, I decided that it was time to clean the kitchen. I was not going to sleep in a house with mouse poop. And I was definitely not going to clean mouse poop without gloves. Luckily, I found a pair of latex dish gloves. Unluckily, the poop gnomes didn't magic away the poop, so I started in the kitchen by following a trail of poop that trailed behind the microwave. I shoved the microwave out of the way and SKRIEEEEEEEEKKKK!
For five seconds we just stared at each other, while I alerted the entire world that I found the mouse. Eventually the mouse had enough and ran behind the fridge. Matt, suspecting that something interesting was happening, came running in. He pulled the fridge away from the wall, and I peeked in.
|The mouse, holding himself up between the fridge and the wall.|
"Now what?" "I guess we pull the fridge out farther." Another inch or two and the mouse fell. Wasting no time, he darted under the fridge.
There was barely an inch of clearance, and certainly not enough room to shove a broom underneath. The evil defiler of homes was safe from my broom. But not for long.
Matt emptied all the beer from the fridge, while I kept watch for escaping rodents. Then, he carefully tilted the fridge forward and VROOM the mouse ran across the kitchen towards the dining room. Not that we had a particularly good plan to catch him, but really? Did he have to make this any harder?
I bolted after him, via the living room, hoping to cut him off. Matt took the direct route through the dining room. The mouse took up residence underneath the liquor cabinet. This time there was enough space to look underneath, but I couldn't see anything. Even after tilting it, no mice appeared.
Okay, fine then. We starting searching around the boxes in the dining room and the living room. Still no mouse, just more mouse poop. Ew. Well, back to the last confirmed location.
Once again, Matt tipped the cabinet. This time the mouse bolted. We chased him across the living room, back through the kitchen, and into the the dining room. Instead of hiding underneath furniture, the mouse took the opposite route and climbed up a dining room chair. He calmly remained perched on the top of the back rest, while I fetched my broom and a plastic bin with a lid.
I snuck up on one side with my broom, while Matt approached with the plastic bin. Once close enough, I bonked him with the bristle end, causing him to half fall and half jump into the bin. Matt slammed the lid down and locked it.
I guess the situation improved, but now what on earth do we do with a mouse in a plastic bin? Why, name him, of course! I'd like to introduce Maurice Mouss, named after Maurice Moss from The I.T. Crowd.
|He even looks like a Maurice.|
|Nom nom bed.|
|Matt and Maurice having a moment.|