At Mice Breaking Point

Fooled again. I almost had myself believing that my house had seen the worst of things, and I wouldn’t have to worry about mice anymore.

Yesterday morning, I came downstairs to find mouse turds under the fridge, by the stove, behind the family room couch, and in the pantry. They were green turds, which means that the little bastard(s) have been dining on my strategically-placed poison, but they were turds nonetheless.

I laid out a snapper trap last night, and it was empty this morning. There were also no turds to be found anywhere. Maybe I got a “lone gunman” on Friday night. Perhaps one wayward mouse stumbled into my home, ate poison, and went back outside to die; case closed.

I think that’s what I said last time …


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