I am feeling guilty today. Guilty, because I am in high spirits over the death of a very cute little mouse. I feel that for this to make any sense/for you not to think I’m a psychotic mouse-killer, I should explain the story behind this.
I am a student. Ergo, I am totally broke.
There’s a website called FreeCycle where people put up posts advertising all manner of random junk that they no longer want. It ranges from old bed frames to boxes full of empty jam jars. It’s amazing. And what me and R have gotten into the habit of doing, is replying to posts that are advertising boxes of books, pick them up....then sell them on eBay. (I do realise that we now sound like scavvy mouse killers now, but hear me out)
The majority of the books never sell, and the ones that are left over, we put back up on FreeCycle for someone else to take. We generally average about £5 for each batch of books we pick up. Not much, but hey...it’s a bottle of wine.
So the other week we went and picked up a couple of boxes of books that some lovely lady had left out by her front gate for us. Being the lazy people that we are, me and R only got round to putting one box up on eBay and left the other for another day...which apparently was a mistake.
Sometimes it’s hard to share a bed with R because she talks in her sleep and twitches a lot, plus, we only have single beds and it’s a bit of a squeeze. Which means that occasionally I find it near impossible to fall asleep, but while I was lying awake that night, I heard distinctly gnaw-y and shuffling type noises. Thinking it was the neighbours or some such excuse, I went to sleep. But the next day I went into my room to find mouse droppings on my pillow.
It was grim.
In bed again the following night, (I had alerted R to the idea that there was a mouse) we heard decidedly mousey type noises and decided to set our own make shift lures to see if there was actually a mouse or if I was just insane. This consisted of setting pieces of loo paper about R’s room thinking that the mouse would either disturb them, or shred them for its nest.
Lying in bed again....There are more mousey noises. I start to get creeped out. I’m not a great fan of rodents.The possibility that the dusky old box of books, that has most likely been living in FreeCycle lady’s attic and left in her front garden, may have contained a mouse has edged its way into my head. In my delirious state, I insisted that we move the box outside. The mousey noises don’t seem to stop, but by this point it is the wee hours of the morning and we fall asleep anyway.
We buy a trap (which included that embarrassing moment of me declaring my murderous intent towards the mouse to a shop full of people...read this this for a re-cap) and set it, but either the mouse is very good at resisting the delights of 38p Lidl’s chocolate...or I made the whole thing up in my head.Which explains my slightly vengeful triumph at finding a dead mouse in the trap upon the return of an evening with R and our friend S.
Please don’t think I’m a malicious mouse murderer. He was taunting me for days on end with his scratchy rodent-like noises and at one point made me doubt my sanity, scaring me into thinking I was a loon who invents feral rodents for LOLs.
Plus he shat on my bed.
R.I.P mousey. But please serve as a warning to all your mousey friends that may be eyeing up my house.