"My name is Julie, and I have a mouse in my apartment."
I know, no need to be that dramatic about it. But every time I see a mouse in my apartment (at least once a year) I automatically feel like it's a reflection on my character. "I clean!" I protest to anyone who will listen. "I don't leave food lying around!" You loyal readers will remember that on January 1st, the cat I was taking care of actually killed a mouse. I figured that having a cat in my home for a month was extra insurance - that the smell would ward off mice for at least a couple months.
But alas - this new mouse is bold. He/she just sauntered on out the other night, and didn't even scurry away that fast when I stomped on over. I immediately got out my trusty mouse traps, baited them with peanut butter, and waited. Today, I walked into my apartment, and automatically checked the mouse traps.
One had moved. Fairly far from where I had set it. Since I live alone, there is only one explanation: THE MOUSE MOVED IT! So, my moment today was of sheer panic. This mouse is smarter than I thought! Can I borrow a cat again?