Anyone up for a game of MOUSETRAP???

DING-DONG, THE MOUSE IS DEAD!

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Yes! We have Victory! The nasty little rodent (which, disgustingly, wasn't as little as I'd hoped) got itself caught in a wooden trap in my island drawer (it seemed to favor the bottom one). But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me share with you the events today which led up to the mouse's ugly demise...

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First of all, I'm so grateful it happened while Brett was home. And all my male relatives and neighbors should be grateful as well, because YOU are who I would've called to help me clean up the germ-infested corpse had my knight-in-shining-armor not been around to do his husbandly duty.

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This morning I checked the mousetraps we've had set since Saturday. I realized why we hadn't had any success. It was obvious... They didn't work! You can see from the picture on the left the metal trigger the mouse has to step on in order to eat the peanut butter off of the roof of the trap. Now in the next picture, take a look at the PB. Um, yeah...it's gone. You can even see the little paw or teeth marks where Stewart Little dined. So we either have a PB-addicted lightweight who isn't heavy enough to set off the trigger or we bought piece-of-crap traps. Back to square one. At least we know the mouse wasn't allergic to peanuts after all. In fact, now that we knew how much he liked it, we were ready to give him a generous serving. Right after a metal bar broke its neck, that is.

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Off to Home Depot! Where Brett loaded up on glue strips and good ol' fashioned cheap wooden spring traps. Around 8:30 p.m. we (Brett) placed the traps in the island drawers (that's where most of the droppings were found). At about 9:30, only one hour later, we were watching television when our ears heard a much-anticipated (but not expected) SNAP! We both looked at each other and couldn't believe it. NO way would we have caught one already. A trap must have simply discharged accidentally. I sent Brett to investigate and the look on his face told me all I needed to know. "Mickey" had met its match!

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Decking himself out in his "mouse-retrieval" gear (gloves and a plastic bag), Brett braved his overactive gag-reflex and rid our house of at least one mouse. I am just praying our furry friend was flying solo! Time will tell, I suppose. Until then, my kitchen will continue to be turned upside down as my cupboards remain empty and my most frequently-used dishes, silverware, and pans stay safe on my tabletop (I tell myself the mice can't get there. And I refuse to listen to anyone who tries to overturn my denial).