Usually when I begin an entry I have a fairly good idea where I’m going with it but this time I’ll just start writing and see where we end up. I’m sitting in the kitchen instead of the new office I created with Daughter’s help out of her old bedroom and I have a good reason for being here. I was just in that nice new office and from the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of something I disregarded because the surroundings are all new and I figured it was a shadow.
I continued on with what I was doing and then I saw it again and realized it was either the mother of all water bugs or else we had another mouse. It scurried across the seafoam green carpeting within inches of my foot and disappeared behind the bookcase. I jumped up and started to shriek like Olive Oyl when Bluto yanked her by the neck and then I grabbed my laptop and ran into the kitchen with my cell phone to call Popeye.
It was Husband’s good fortune to be out of the house at that moment, but luckily I have The Network, so unless he was climbing Kilimanjaro, a dead zone is not what they advertise. I got him on the first ring.
OSV: Are you near a CVS?
HUSBAND: Are you feeling sick?
OSV: You know, I am a little nauseous.
HUSBAND: You want me to get some Pepto?
OSV: No, I want mousetraps.
HUSBAND: How many?
There was a time when this conversation would have taken longer to unfold but after almost eight years of marriage the corners tend to get rounded.
When Husband arrived home with my goody bag he had one question: Where? I pointed to my new office with its new air conditioner, the installation of which no doubt provided the means for rodential entry. We had apparently neglected to take down the sign that said ‘Fresh Hole In House – Vermin This Way’.
Husband’s mathematical mind scoured the parameters while I pointed out the trail I had witnessed. Then he dropped to one knee and with both palms on the seafoam carpet he scanned the route like Tiger Woods planning his final putt.
HUSBAND: Four will do it.
I followed him like a groupie into the kitchen where he peeled the wrapping from four traps and laid them out on the counter. He rolled up his shirt sleeves and said to get the peanut butter. I brought him a jar of his favorite, Jif Extra Crunchy.
HUSBAND: Don’t we have any creamy?
OSV: Well, yeah, we do. But the creamy’s mine. Can’t you use the crunchy?
HUSBAND: No.
OSV: Do mice really care? I’ll be too skeeved to eat out of that jar again.
He gave me The Look.
I got him the creamy.
Daughter’s Featured Fotos from Costa Rica are filled with Texture
waxy
gnarly
plump
silky
ribbed