Friday, 30 March 2012
Because I always burn the bottoms of pans when making any kind of milk-based sauce, I chose to ignore it, and instead continued to put 100 per cent concentration into my stirring. The sight of a mouse in my kitchen would normally make me feel physically sick, and I would do the whole standing-on-a-chair thing, screaming blue murder (despite growing up with mice in my Mum's house).
Looking back, I think it must have been a subconscious coping mechanism that kicked in: no one was going to ruin this labour intensive meal, not even a rodent.
The next day, despite finding droppings and gnawings everywhere, I was still in total denial and I didn't think about the mouse again. But that night Tom woke me up at midnight. He looked shaken, and told me that he had walked into the kitchen and spotted a mouse poking his head out of a cereal packet. 'WHICH CEREAL PACKET?' I asked, totally panic stricken. I was inwardly relieved that it had been the kids' Cheerios and not my muesli. Tom told me that he had heroically grabbed the box with the mouse still inside, and given it a good shake. What he was trying to achieve with the shake I don't know, but he said the sound of a mouse thudding around amongst Cheerios was an odd sensation. He went out into the night and bravely threw the box and its dizzy inhabitant out into the garden.
By Monday I was feeling pretty traumatised, particularly since, on Sunday night, the mice had chewed through our wooden cutlery draw and placed all the wooden shavings amongst my forks and spoons, along with their shit. And on Monday afternoon, Tom had yet another unnerving encounter with a mouse who was hanging out next to our microwave, staring at him.
I am now refusing to cook in my kitchen. I have thrown a lot of our food away. And I will only eat items from the fridge. Each time I nervously enter the kitchen, I mentally prepare myself, make sure I'm not holding anything breakable, and I shout loudly and clap to give them a chance to at least run away and hide so that I don't have to see them strolling around on my kitchen surfaces.
Much to Tom's delight, I have had to throw Baby Annabel into the bin. Her neck had been gnawed. I assume it was a mouse anyway.
I have even become terrified about them getting into bed with me while I am asleep. 'Well you mustn't eat chocolate in bed and leave crumbs everywhere then,' Betty helpfully informed me.
Pest control are coming on Tuesday.
Posted by Elsie Button at 14:14