While viewing the great outdoors beyond our windows, I realized that the outdoors needed a manicure, so a few days later a gardener and his guys arrived. They worked furiously, cutting back, mulching, pulling weeds, etc. I ventured out on occasion to advise, offer water, and generally to annoy them. After three days, the place looked great. Bon mots all around, then Scott and I were once again masters of our domain, or so we thought. . . .
Early in the evening, I found myself in the kitchen (speaking of new realities) when I spied something scurrying across the floor. Denial is one of the first tenets of law and I heartily recommend it. 'It was just a spider.' A little noise a few minutes later and I caught another movement. It could no longer be denied. There was a mouse in the house. I did what any rational human being would do, I ran to Scott, screaming, hoisted myself on his back and refused to touch down until the offending critter could be removed. Scott, stoic as usual, stared back at me, undoubtedly pondering the wisdom of his marriage vows, but finally remarked 'oh, for christ freakin' sake, it's probably just a field mouse'. Easy for him to say, he's a Nebraska farm boy. Me, not so much (as Lisa said 'give me Park Avenue'). Nothing would do until he hightailed it to the hardware store for a mouse trap. I just did not shut up. There would be no peace in the kingdom, so off he went.
Mickey must have found his way into the house when we razed the nearby outdoors. Scott thought it was a field mouse; that all the pruning and gardening may have destroyed the former Disney estate. Homeless, yet another sad tale of government usurping the individual's rights, the mouse was looking for a home. While Scott was off, I discovered that my little calculator had died so I hied myself to the garage for replacement batteries. Turning back to walk up the steps to the house, I noticed a long black snake nestled along the stair riser. My reaction? Betti Davis eyes. Snake? It looked like a boa constrictor. Another victim of the assault on private property? Yikes. However, my current location left me in a subordinate position. The only way back into the house was up the steps and that wasn't going to happen. Noticing the telephone on the wall, I called Scott on his cell phone, which I then heard ringing inside the house. Dear God, I was in the middle of a Russian novel. Oh the irony, to have lived a virtuous life, only to be rewarded with the company of a snake; the meaning of life, the poignancy, all swam before me. What would Tolstoy do? While I pondered, the damn snake moved. That took the color out of my freshly dyed hair. It slithered into the newly purchased plywood and disappeared. Oh goodie, I couldn't wait for the right moment to tell Scott. I scurried back into the house, hopped on the bed and stayed there until Scott returned.
And return he did; after a long talk with a few men (Larry, Darryl and his other brother Darryl) at the hardware store. No purchases at the hardware store, large or small, are made without a lively conversation, complete strangers interject their opinions, all comments are heard and weighed, until a consensus is reached. Scott returned with the learned insight of experienced mouse trappers. He calmly placed a few traps around the pantry, smugly patted me on the head and moseyed back to the garage to continue working. That was when I told him about the snake. That fixed him. He tried not to show it, but I knew this turn of events brought him down to my level of cold unmitigated fear. His laconic questioning 'oh yeah, what color was it, did it have a ring around its neck' didn't fool me. He was terrified. Suddenly it was too cold and too late to go back out to the garage to do any more work that night.
We parked ourselves in the TV room to converse about the day's events. A walk back to the kitchen, and there was a little mouse, trapped. I was very excited to report the news to Scott when I realized that this little mouse was not the same color as the mouse that I saw earlier. Yikes, not only Mickey, but Minnie, Morty and Ferdie had arrived. Now I had Scott's attention. Soon, traps lined the kitchen and pantry floorboards, peanut butter abounded and, in no time, another snap was heard. There was another dead mouse, but wait, this one was grey too, not black. Scott later walked to the bedroom and there was a little black thing scurrying across the carpet. He announced that he would sleep in the TV room. What? while leaving me alone in the bedroom? No way. I'd seen the movie Ben. I knew what could happen and I wasn't going to sleep there without him. The bonds of marriage are strong, that, and if he ever wanted to get laid again he'd better join me in the bedroom. So we searched every nook and cranny, looked under the bed, opened the fireplace glass windows, generally turned the room upside down. Finally, satisfied that we were alone, we hit the pillows and rested.
This morning he removed the two dead mice and replaced a few traps. I don't know what he's going to do about the snake in the garage; I have my own problems.
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