Mice Redux

No pictures. My kind super felt sorry for me and installed glue traps around my apartment–by the radiator, beneath the stove. They’re not humane, sorry to say. Heard awful stories where the poor mice get stuck on them and cry and scream, then eventually starve to death. Hideous. I can’t even deal with fishing, people (holding the pole for hours and chatting, yes; actually feeling something alive struggling for its life at the end of my line, not so much).

Luckily, there is mercy in the world and the mouse has not returned. The only thing the glue traps have ensnared are the edge of my stockings–and let me tell you, they’re powerful. I had a mini-trapped-mouse experience. Like just imagining something trapped in the trap with me was enough to inspire me to flail around uncontrollably around my kitchen, dragging the 25 cent contraption all over, yelling “gross, gross, gross.” 

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