How Three Weeks Of Trying To Be Decent Got Me Nowhere
I want to be honest about something. I don't hate mice.
We have a dog. We had a hamster for four years. My daughter cried at a nature documentary last spring.
So when I found droppings under the sink in September, I never even considered a snap trap.
I bought live-catch traps. Two of them. The kind with the little door.
I watched three YouTube videos. I baited them with peanut butter, exactly like the man said.
Then I got ambitious and built one out of a bucket and a soda bottle. My husband thought it was hilarious.
For a week, I caught nothing.
Not one. The bait was gone twice. The doors never closed.
Meanwhile It Was Spreading Through My House
That's the part nobody prepares you for.
While I was being patient and kind, they were multiplying.
Week one it was under the sink.
Week two it was the pantry and the hallway.
Week three I found droppings in my daughter's bedroom. On the carpet. Six feet from her pillow.
I stood in her doorway and something in me just snapped.