Weasels Ripped My Flesh
There are mice in my apartment and I have not taken too kindly to them, surprise, surprise. Upon seeing one of the rodents last night, as it scurried across thkitchen floor, I screamed like a girl who does not like mice would scream - panning out from my apartment, to Manhattan, to New York, to the United States, to planet Earth, and, finally, the Universe.
As part of my charmed life, I have never before lived among rodents, at least not to the best of my knowledge. My old roommate, Anne (the wedding planner), smiled at me once -- revealing a mouth full of at least four more teeth than the average person is born with -- closely resembling a rat. I’ve gone camping before, for a few days at a time, and I’ve kept company with boys whose bathrooms I was reluctant to step foot in, but I have never actually lived with mice.
Yet that is what my current roommate is telling me to do: live with the mice. My roommate, the guardian angel of Craigslist, with her rent-stabilized apartment and a work schedule that contrasts perfectly with mine, is apparently an expert mouse catcher. Yes, she trapped and slaughtered thirteen of the assholes last winter.
Just in case you missed it, THERE WERE 13 MICE LIVING IN MY APARTMENT LAST WINTER.
And it’s safe to assume that they’ll be back this winter. Mice are dumb, as everyone I called in my panic was quick to tell me, “Mice are more afraid of you than you are of them.” I guess. But they are smart enough to come in for the winter, where warmth and food awaits them. What I don’t get, though, is why, in the middle of this global warming fit, are they still occupying my pantry? I guess it’s biological or lunar or something.
They’re fast, too, unlike their counterparts in the rodent kingdom, the rat. When I see a rat on the subway tracks, I don’t really mind. Rats move at a much more slovenly pace, because they are cunning and therefore fearless, giving you time to avert your eyes. I also know that there is no way in hell a rat can get into my apartment, right? Right? But these mice, these mice move at lightening speed, and they start to get to you. I’ll be sitting at the kitchen/ dining room table, and out of the corner of my eye, I see something dart across the floor, but was it a mouse or just my imagination?
So we took all of the dried goods out of the pantry/coat closet and set up a series of traps. We’ve caught three so far, three mice that were running around my kitchen that is only eight feet from my room, which contains my bed, where I rest my head at night. As my roommate describes it, you get to know the different personality types of the mice. Some of them just go for the food, while others like to dig through the trash. Yeah, like they’re goddamn Disney characters.
Enough of that, though, I just want to buy a snake and be rid of the whole ordeal.