Four of the blighters now, actually.
Shambled downstairs this morning, and cussed myself for not closing the living room door before I went to bed last night: that's where I've found the 3 dead mice this past week.
About ten days ago while watching TV just after midnight I thought I saw something move in a corner of the room; something mouse sized. The next day I purchased some mouse traps and a packet of mouse poison from the local hardware store. I decided to use the poison as I came close to severing several fingers trying to set the damn traps. So five little trays with the poison distributed along the walls, in corners, behind furniture as instructed.
Next morning, bingo, two dead mice lying on the living room carpet. This big Jessy nearly jumped onto the nearest chair. My god, the adrenaline was coursing through my wherever adrenaline courses through, as if I was a WW1 Tommy going over the top for the first time. Getting a grip on my inner wuss I brushed the corpses into a bucket and disposed of them in some nearby waste ground. Not my garden, though by the aforementioned terrain description it could well have been.
The next morning I found another dead mouse expired under a chair after helping itself to my toxic offerings. I understand why they found the living room such rich foraging ground. My elderly mother eats all her meals and snacks from the comfy chair she installs herself into every morning, and she deposits a generous scattering of crumbs onto the carpet round her. And (holding my guilty hand up here) I haven't been as diligent as I should have been lately with the hoovering up of said crumbs. Ergo rich foraging ground for mice.
The following five days were mice free days. Before retiring to bed I would remove any food from the living room (bread sticks, prawn crackers, dates, and grapes being typical fare) and close the living room door to contain any further foragers within the killing ground.
Yesterday I left the living room door wide open. So this morning, having routinely searched for dead mice and found nothing I set the table for breakfast, made myself some cereal and a mug of tea, and settled down in front of my computer (which is in the dining room), and as I adjusted my feet under my seat I felt something lumpy, looked down, and leaped off my seat at the discovery of the fourth mouse. The feeling of terror-driven repulsion lasted no more than a few seconds this time. I am becoming a hardened veteran, I tell myself, and soon won't even bat the proverbial eyelid at a dead mouse find.
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