Mice (and Men)

We have a rodent issue.

Something gnaws loudly in the living room, goes quiet when the husband jumps up and down on the floor, then happily continues 10 minutes later.

Whoever/whatever it is probably throws us four middle claws.

Cocky sonofabitch.

The husband bought a rodent sonar-thing and mousetraps, last of which will be great as we found a drawer full of scattered mouse droppings this afternoon, amidst Son#2's excessive anger outbursts, a handyman, Son#3's tantrums for Star Wars paraphernalia and a sleep-over friend for Son#1.

Nonetheless.

We're coming for you, Mickey.

The mouse population ate my blooming vegetables in the garden, and feeding the birds is also out of the question after I saw a mouse doing the backstroke in the birdfeeder, full of seeds.

Mmmm.
We're considering a cat, although the prospect of hair and scratched furniture puts me off all of a sudden.

Hopefully, #1's friend will bugger off early tomorrow, we can clear our bedroom from building debris and go do something lovely that doesn't involve wine (with which I'm more and more convinced I have a problem).

Horror of horrors.

A world without wine...

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