Storytime part III

Today's story is funny and horrifying all at the same time; it was difficult for me to write without vomiting on my computer screen. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Rodent versus Woman: Scarred for Life

It was late fall in 2004. I was on my last clinical rotation for PT school in Little Rock, Arkansas. Only six more weeks until I graduated with my Masters left my school days behind. Life was good, my friends.

When they assign clinical rotations in different states the student is responsible for finding their own housing, and luckily for me Keri knew someone in Little Rock who could provide me shelter. Sounds perfect, right?

I made the 6 hour drive to Little Rock every Sunday night and headed back to St. Louis every Friday night---just to see the boyfriend and whatnot. There wasn't much to do in Little Rock and I had no desire to explore. But for some odd reason I decided to stay put one weekend: a decision that I will always regret.

Friday night I cozied up on the couch and began my TV night all alone. It was kind of nice, actually......until I heard something fall in the kitchen. I froze, thinking maybe there was a mass murderer hunting for a victim. But eventually I mustered up the courage to look in the kitchen and found nothing. "Meh, no big deal. I'm probably just hearing things," I tell myself. And I settle back into the couch.

Then out of the corner of my eye I see a dark object sprint out of my bedroom-- but as I jerk my head around to get a better view, I lose the mystery object. My heart starts pounding so loud that I drown out my thoughts. And then I see it: another dark object scurrying out of my bedroom and down the hall. My brain stalls for a second and then I realize that this object is a mouse. A real live mouse, sharing the house with me. Stalking me, ready to attack me, and scratch my eyes out. And with that came my first blood curdling scream. I present to you Satan reincarnated:
Immediately I yank my feet up onto the couch and call Nate back in St. Louis. He is getting ready to go out [how convenient] while I am hyperventilating. "Holycrap, wehavemicehere! Imightdie." is all I can say, and then another one runs right toward me and then behind my couch. I scream again and Nate holds back laughter. LAUGHTER, people. At a time in my life when I was nearly dying. The mouse then sprints from behind my couch over to the television and begins a staring contest with me. Those beady little eyes! Disgusting nose! And hideous whiskers! All staring right at me as if to say, "I'm going to get you, my pretty. Welcome to Arkansas!"

I get off the phone with Nate and call my parents, who also show restraint in holding back their laughter. I beg my dad to tell me the truth: can mice crawl up bedposts, or would they just slide right off? I have to know the answer or I might have a stroke. He calmly tells me [lying through his teeth!] that they cannot climb vertical surfaces and I would be safe in my bed. I don't fully believe him but I love that he tried to comfort me anyway:)

As I tried to sleep that night I could hear them in the walls. Scraping their razor sharp claws through the drywall in search of food. I am not exaggerating when I tell you that there must have been hundreds of them in the walls. Hundreds.

So after zero sleep I decided to take matters into my own hands. I went to Target and bought a ridiculous amount of mouse traps. Even though I was ticked off I couldn't bring myself to purchase the traps that cut off their heads. Can you imagine hearing those snap into place over and over again through the night? Me either, so I bought the ones with glue in them---which grab hold of their scrawny legs and never let go. I also purchased a new alarm clock that boasted 'soothing sounds to help you fall asleep.' I was pretty sure that the hearing waves crash on the beach was about a million times better than mice crawling in the walls.

I placed about 5 traps around the house in strategic locations and I waited. Every now and then I could hear a faint squeal but I didn't let myself fully process this sound. That night I blasted some mad ocean tunes and pulled the covers up over my head. Even though I was depriving myself of vital oxygen it was still better than going blind from mice claws.

That morning as I made my way to the shower I stole a glance at one of the traps behind my bedroom door. What I saw will scar me for life. There was not one, not two, but FOUR dead mice in the tiny trap. I dry heaved a little and then proceeded to check the other traps: all brimming with dead mice.
But the worst moment came while I was standing on a stool [to get off of the infested floor, duh] peering over the stove to investigate a trap. A mouse came barreling out of the heating duct through the floor and I nearly had a seizure. I think I blacked out for a moment in time because I don't remember much else.

When my roommate [who rented the mouse house] came back from her weekend away I informed her that if she didn't contact her landlord about an exterminator, that I would be staying in a hotel for the remainder of my time in Arkansas. She of course called, and they 'took care of it' [whatever that means]. I didn't see another beastly creature during my stay. But the people at work had a fun time teasing me about Gus-Gus....the mouse from Cinderella. Please. As if they were this cute:

Before PETA comes to get me, let me just say that it is not normal to share quarters with obscene amounts of rodents. They carry diseases and lay hundreds of feces all over the place [including our kitchen countertops! where we prepared food!], and they should stay outside where they belong. Don't tell me you wouldn't lose your mind after this experience, too. It always gets a chuckle from my friends but let's just say it wasn't so funny at the time.

Are your feet pulled up off the ground yet? Anyone else have 'an experience'?