I’m at war.
Don’t get excited; it isn’t anything spectacular. But war is war and there will be causalities. God willing, it won’t be my wife or myself or either of our pets. At the same time, I plan on making others dies for their cause. Die by the hordes. They have invaded my home and they shall pay with their lives.
Current numbers are:
Nick — 4
Mice — 0
Yes, I am currently fighting a mouse invasion. I don’t know how many of them there are, but I am fed up with it all. Those little buggers seem to be everywhere. That and their feces.
If you’ve ever had mice, then you know what I mean.
It’s not like I have a dirty home. K and I don’t employ a maid or anything of the like, but we like to keep things nice and tidy and free from all those germs that make you sick. So when Nynaeve found the first one and chased it across the house, I knew that things were going to change. Since then, both our dog and cat have attempted to hunt down more than one—neither with any success. What they have done is let us know that more are in the house and that we need to keep putting out traps.
But that doesn’t mean I’m not having oddball thoughts about it. Last night, I could have sworn that I heard a mouse the size of my cat jump off a ledge onto the floor with a mighty thump. And before you say that it was my cat, she was lying at my feet preventing me from rolling over. Could have been the dog, but she was downstairs sleeping—I’m sure—on the couch. Before I could get up and check it out, I fell back asleep and had dreams of mice dressed as Roman legionaries and marching in formations across my kitchen floor.
That’s not a dream you want to wake up from.
Tonight, I am off to campaign again, striking at flanks and seeing if I can turn the enemy. Unlike the Nazis, I shall turn them back into the sea.
Wish me luck.