not for the faint of heart

a week and a half ago, I realized that I wasn't living alone in this apartment.

No sir, I had a friend who made his presence known late one friday night by hopping across my kitchen floor. Did you know that mice hop?

I was so thoroughly grossed out by it I tried chasing it down to get rid of it then and there but was unsuccessful. The little bugger had gone back into the hole from whence he came.

I stayed the night at a friends house, out of sheer horror, and haunted by the memory of a pet gerbil crawling on top of me as I slept when I was a mere 8 years old.

The next day I acquired two mouse traps which I cleverly concealed behind my dishwasher and bathroom door. The original sighting spot.

A week went by and no dice. Err, I mean mice.

But then yesterday, Steve mentioned that he thought he had noticed the one behind the dishwasher being unset. But not noticing that there was a mouse in it. So this morning I went to get it and reset the thing and guess what awaited me... oh that's right. Little luther (i think that name is appropriate) was sandwiched in that mousetrap.

I'm not one for animal cruelty, but mice should know, they must not coexist with humans. There are consequences for doing so.

Luther has been disposed of... but not before I experienced some bodily reactions I was quite sure I was tougher than. Like, the thought of taking the mouse out of the trap before disposing, made my ears burn. Picking the trap up to put it in a garbage bag made my stomach flop right over. And when it's little body moved as its weight shifted on its trip to the garbage bag, I screamed so loud and dropped it back to the floor.

Yes, I am a girl. I am a screamer, and I get faint at the thought of rodents running wild in my house. Never thought I would have to admit that... but tell me you don't feel a bit weak when you see this: