My Tiny Unwanted Guest

When I was a little girl, up to the age of about 12, my parents and I would visit my Great Uncle Clarence. He lived about 75 miles west of Boston out in the middle of nowhere. For decades he dwelled in a tiny house by himself on some rural road. He was pretty grungy, never shaven, and I can’t remember him in anything other than well-worn bib overalls. I don’t think he was all there mentally but he was a nice old man who used to tickle me for his amusement, and mine.

One day my Uncle Clarence, my parents, and I were sitting around this ancient kitchen table talking about one thing or another when out of the corner of my eye I saw a mouse skitter across the floor. I let out a yelp and was totally creeped out. My mother was made uncomfortable by the sighting of the tiny animal, but my father and uncle almost could not have cared less; especially my uncle. He muttered something like, “Yeah, he and his buddies seem to be sharing the place with me.” It was almost as if he knew the mouse by name. On the day I saw that mouse, I never again felt good about visiting my Uncle Clarence.

Well, yesterday I saw a mouse in my apartment. I have no clue how he got in. Maybe he came in when I propped open the front door while carrying in groceries a few days ago. I know that mice are fairly comfortable living outside in the summer, but come winter they are looking for a warm residence. Well, I know one who found just such a place.

Ironically, I am keeping a clean apartment these days, now that Marty regularly comes over. When there is no special person in my life, my apartment can become something short of spotless. As I think I have said in other blog entries, when I am really lax about my apartment’s cleanliness, I won’t even pick-up dropped popcorn kernels immediately. They will sometimes sit on my floor for hours or even a day. It was nothing to have several days’ worth of cereal bowls sitting in my sink. The only reason there would be no plates is because I generally eat microwave dinners right from the cartons. 

Anyway, I'm going to bait a trap and set it next to my refrigerator. Until I catch this little guy, I’m going to tiptoeing around apprehensively, and out of the corner of my eye nervously looking for any tiny thing moving across the floor. Obviously I do not enjoy the company of rodents. Thank god he’s not a rat.