Trapped

The morning of New Year's Eve, I was set to drive to Indy to see family. I was gathering things I’d packed, making sure things were cleaned so I didn’t come back to a mess.

Now, I’ve had some issues with mice in the past but I hadn’t seen any signs for a while. It was quiet. Too quiet.

That morning, I glanced where one of my two mouse traps usually sits, between the fridge and washer. It wasn’t there.

I quickly learned that what’s worse than having mice and catching them is them tripping the trap and disappearing with it. A full trap is better than one far from where it's supposed to be.

Definitely not what you want to deal with before leaving for the weekend, but definitely something you can’t put off to deal with later. And believe me, I was tempted.

After digging under the fridge with a very helpful broom handle, I found a trap that wasn’t mine.

Then, after some skillful work with a flashlight and a phone camera, I discovered the little bugger was caught by a foot between the washer and dryer.

Now, I won’t share the gritty details of his demise here. We’ll just say that, after some pulling up of the big girl pants, I found a new use for my hammer.