"...or, maybe it's a rat."

When the exterminator was here the other day, he said the words, "...or, maybe it's a rat."  I'm not sure exactly what he said, because I sort of blacked out after that.

Last night, I got home from visiting my grand-fabulous-babies and noticed my rug in front of my stove was askew.  At first, I thought I moved it when I pushed my kitchen island out of the way to put my Lean Cuisine's in the freezer...the ones I bought because I left my freezer open yesterday...if you're keeping track.

So, I grabbed the rug and pulled it straight and it had been gnawed, about six inches toward the center of the rug in some parts, along the edge that had been under my stove.  Sonofabitch.  What the hell kind of varmint do I have that is strong enough to pull a rug.  Granted, it's a flexible rubber cushiony rug (that I spent $20 damn dollars on two months ago), but still.  That ain't no mouse.

I banged on the drawer to scare away whatever gnawed the rug and then pulled the drawer out.  At the back of the wall under my stove, there is a hole around the electrical wiring for the stove.  Bingo.  That's where the furry bastard is getting in.  There were pieces of the rug scattered about, but no nest, thank you Baby Jesus.

I slept last night, when I did sleep, with my bedroom door closed and a pair of blue jeans stuffed under the door. I had bad dreams all night, mostly about married people having affairs in the front seat of my car while I was driving and the people in the back seat of my car thought I was stupid to be annoyed by that.  What that has to do with vermin infestations, I do not know.

An interesting thing I discovered about having a mouse in your house is that everybody has a story.  Even the lady at the pest control place who answers the phone told me her story.  It's one of those little secrets that people don't talk about. 

When I had a ghost in my house, at first I was hesitant to tell people.  I soon found out that every single person I speak to about it has a personal ghost story.  It's comforting, in a creepy sort of way, to find out that everyone also has a "I had a gotdamn mouse in my house" story, too.