They are out to get me.....for real.

Now some of you might think I am being paranoid. Unreasonable even. But trust me, I am not.

There is a conspiracy theory over in my neck of the woods. Seems the mice are conspiring against me. Evidently, they don't like my working in the garage.

It started subtly at first. The little calling cards they leave behind everywhere they go. Cars emit exhaust, mice emit turds. It must be annoying to be a mouse. Crapping every time you take a step. Or maybe they have terrible navigational senses, and like Hansel and Gretel, leave a trail to find their way home. Only instead of crumbs, they crap?

The poop is bad enough. I mean really. I hadn't seen the mice, only their markings. That all changed after they seemed to have a town hall meeting and decided to scare the crap out of me! I opened the garage door to go in and work, and one fuzzy little crapmaster sped by me at lightening fast speed. I shrieked and slammed the door. Why do today what you can put off till tomorrow right? Though I don't think I can tell my customers, sorry, I cant get your order completed b/c there is a mouse in my garage. So, I put on my big girl undies. Holding my breath (why did I hold my breath?)I went in and got to my workspace as quickly as I could I liked to believe my workspace was in a protected little mouse free bubble. Ha! But I'll get to that later.

I turn to get some vinyl to spool up the machine and see a brown streak dart from the closet to the loft bed we have in pieces in the garage. Of course, I scream (i am sure my garage living neighbors wondered if there was an intruder or something from the way I screamed.) I went into the office and begged Blake to come see if he could find the little thing. He did. No sign of it. Evidently, they just like me. Lovely. So we go back into the house and I add mouse traps to my list of things i need to buy. I head back into the garage. And there it is. Sitting by the edge of the bed. Just looking at me. I scream. It doesn't move. I scream louder. It doesn't move. I stomp my feet and tell it to go away. It seems to shrug. Really, it did. I don't know if I had mouse telepathy but I swear it was saying, I'm not afraid of you....the garage is mine. I don't like mice. But I really don't like mice with attitudes. And especially mice with attitudes that crap everywhere. Game on little critters, game on.
I go and buy some sticky traps. That's right. Score one for me. They are gonna get it now. Ha. No more mice after tonight. So I strategically place the sticky traps in the routes I have seen the little crapper running along. I close the garage door, feeling a bit victorious, perhaps prematurely, but I just knew those little critters had met their match. Just before I headed to bed I decided to see if I had had any quick successes. I opened the door and to my utter disbelief, one of the traps is gone. Ok. Where could it go? Still to this day, we have yet to find it. The other sat untouched. I figured I would give it the night and see what happened. The next morning, there are mice tracks through the glue, but good ole' Chuck E Cheese is still off celebrating somewhere. This pisses me off. My mouse telepathy is telling me Chuck is sitting in the corner somewhere snickering, saying your sticky trap cant slow me down. I feel like they are laughing at me. They are sitting there laughing and pooping. "look at the giant human......we sure got her...."

So, yes, at this point I have lost my mind. I am thinking I am going to have to resort to desperate measure to get these little suckers. So, i get two more glue traps. Then, then I break out the big gun....peanut butter. They might be laughing now, but they are about to regret the day they picked my garage. I dab a tiny bit of the butter right in the center of the trap. I head out to the garage, bid my hello's to the little creature that scampered by. I place the trap near where the mouse mafia seems to be congregating. I turn and go to my work area.

Now to be honest, I am not as brave as it may seem. When I am placing said traps, I lean and stretch as far as I can. What if they decide to attack? Have you ever heard of attack mice? Is there such a thing? Knowing my luck, there is. So, I have work to do. But I DO NOT want to be hanging out in the garage. So far, my area seems to be free of any signs of the nasty little creatures. I pull out my chair, and sit down and to my right on the edge of my table I see it. They have left their business card. One little turd, balancing carefully on the edge of the table. They left it right where they knew I'd see it. It is only one, but it was all they needed to leave. It was enough to let me know they had been there. I can see now this is a war. An all out war. The mouse mafia and I are in a battle over territory. My inner voice is telling me I am being ridiculous that the mouse could care less where I go or what I do, that they are scared of ME! But then I hear them chasing each other and I scream. I run inside and do what any sane person would do. I get my 11 year old daughter and make her come out in the garage and stand on mouse duty. She was less than thrilled, but what is a child to do? Now, I know by now you are all thinking i am certifiable. That making my kid come protect me from mice is just plain crazy. But you just didn't see the way they looked at me, how they were so unafraid of me, and how they left poop right on my work table so I would know they were watching me. So Kayleigh, broom in hand, is watching my back. She is scouting the room, seeing if we are about to be attacked. Suddenly we hear "squeak, squeak" and see the mice run past and in an instant we are both up in the chair screaming like we had no tomorrow. Blake comes to the garage to find us huddled together on the top of a metal folding chair, clinging to the broom; pointing and screaming. How he managed not to die laughing at us is a mystery to me!

We finally manage to untangle, climb down and run inside. After that assault, we called it a night. I am happy to report, my peanut butter trick worked. One of the little rascals just couldn't resist, and after a nice meal of Jiff, found he was stuck. The kids felt bad for him, but I just glared. He had been plotting on me, but I won. One down, but i knew there was at least one more. Ugh.

The next day, almost as if they were protesting the capture and death of their leader (?) I found lots of business cards. The turds were aplenty, and I got in my car and went and got the mean old spring traps. I hate those, the sound is terrible. But, I hate mice more. And, this is my busy season and I need to be in my garage. Alone preferably. Traps are set, placed and the waiting begins. I clean up the turds they left behind and wonder how long we'll be fighting these dang mice. Every time they cut and bale the fields behind the house, we seem to have unwelcome garage visitors. I just cant bring myself to believe they might have made it inside my home.

Yesterday, we discovered a mouse in the spring trap by the garage door, right where they come in. Another bites the dust....or was that peanut butter? Dad was visiting, so he took care of that one for me. We worked all day in the garage yesterday and didn't see or hear any of the little crappers. I know they are still there. There is at least one more, I know because he left me a message(turd). He is still conspiring against me, and planning to overtake the garage (insert evil laugh)Well, I left a message back to him. Right in the center of a nicely loaded spring trap. I just hope he finds it.