There’s a mouse in my apartment, and for the longest time, he stayed under my stove, occasionally popping out to grab food from my kitchen floor, which invariably features quite the spread. But today, I saw him come out from under the stove and run all the way under my couch. At that point, it felt like a line had been crossed.
“That’s it, mousie,” I said. “We need to deal with you swiftly, but humanely.” I don’t believe in the death penalty for simple trespassing, after all.
So, I walked to the hardware store, five blocks away, paid an ungodly $20.15 for some state-of-the-art mousetrap that lures and captures—but does not physically harm—the mouse. I got back home, somehow managed to lose the trap in the mess, and have now accepted the mouse as one of those roommates you sometimes don’t see for days.
