Holy crap! My Superbowl kickoff began with a scare.
This week, my kitchen has been in disarray with putting in new cabinets, new door fronts, drawers and corner lazy susans. Unfortunately the counter tops are cut and there are large gaps between each side. The carpenter went in and out of the house over about 4 hours and most of the time, the storm door gaped open.
Tonight while trying to heat the toaster oven for some cheap pizzas, a mouse the size of an armadillo ran across the counter no less than 6 inches from my hand, ran behind the toaster oven and dropped into one of the gaps.
I didn't yell. I didn't scream, I produced an ear-piercing shrill in an octave I didn't know I possessed. I think I killed the mouse, or at least blew out his ear drums. He better be dead, but just to make sure, Scott put out 2 mouse traps filled with peanut butter, and then the stupid dog tried to eat them.
My heart is still pumping and I don't think I can enter the kitchen again until he's gone. My throat hurts and football is ruined.
Scott will have to cook the pizzas.
Imagine having your kitchen updated and everything, everything, in the kitchen is crammed in boxes piled in the living room, dining room, hallway and anywhere there's room. I think I counted 15 boxes in various sizes, 3 oak stools and 2 full-size bar stools.
Saturday and Sunday I began to wipe down the new drawers, throw out the bottoms or tops of plastic containers that missed it's match and put things in the dishwasher that needed the dust bunnies removed. With the extra space in the kitchen, boxes were emptied. I was almost finished when Scott said, "Thirty minutes to kickoff. You better put the pizzas in."
I was not prepared for a heart attack and neither was the dog, Scott or perhaps the neighborhood. I'm truly surprised the police weren't called. Heck, I'm sure they heard me too. Typically I'm not afraid of animals, except roaches and spiders, but mice in the house might need to go on the list.
In about an hour, Scott heard some weird scratching noises and found the trap occupied. He carried it to the front door and asked me what he should do with it. Then remorse set in. It's just a mouse and we live in the country where creatures of all shapes and sizes are my neighbors. "Why don't you take it across the street and let it go?"
Scott looked at me like I had three heads. "I'll leave the trap on the porch and tomorrow, if I can open it, I'll see if the mouse can be released." I felt better even if my heart was still pounding.
Am I still leary about going into the kitchen? You bet, and the 2nd trap is still sitting on the floor by the refrigerator just to make sure. Sometime today, I'm going to let the cats roam the house. Unfortunately they will probably just play with it, if they find it. I guess we all are just a bunch of chickens.
May your kitchens be filled with great food and drink, and no surprises. I'd love to hear from you. Write me at firstname.lastname@example.org.