Monday, 24 March 2008

The worst thing in the world.....

The worst thing in the world happened this morning. I am shaking as a type. Excuse the drama but please note I have an extreme phobia about two things - birth and mice. Well vermin of any kind don't do it for me in truth. This morning - at oh 4:20 am I was woken. Not by a sound - that in itself would have been horrific. But by a feeling. A banging from my mattress that went 'gung' 'gung' 'gung'. As if something was coming out of my bed - Freddie Krugar like (if you remember the scene in Nightmare on Elm St where Freddie came actually out of a bed with a fetching sheet straining over his mutilated head). I waited. I am mad I thought. But no, something was banging in my bed. Maybe underneath it, maybe in it's drawers. But deffo in my bed. I woke husband. He was furious. Beyond enraged. He claimed I was making it up. I asked him to turn on the light and pull out the bed in proof. He cursed me and pushed the bed aside to reveal a smattering of droppings. I was not mad. There was indeed something rodent like making itself a brand new home in my knicker drawer. Shaking, I left the room. Impossible for me to even contemplate sharing my room let alone my bed with a small monster. Husband? He went back to bed. Helpful to a T. Me - shaking mess. Where has this beast come from?

Just after Xmas I had another visit from our furry friends. To me, this was the worst horror - returning from Xmas to discover a mouse had been in. I crawled around the floor - a super mouse sleuth - and investigated for droppings. There was a small hole next to the kitchen door - which thankfully had been closed so mousey had only been in one room - my son's. This distressed me most of all and I made husband go in and take the room apart - brandishing a baseball bat - in the hope he would catch our unwanted guest. No sign of the bastard. I went round every radiator - filled every small hole with wire wool and contented myself that house was mouse-proof. That night my cousin and his girlfriend came to stay. There was no evidence of any more mice visiting again. The following night I headed to bed but unable to sleep I got up and made my way to the bathroom - and something in the dark scuttled past my foot. I screamed louder than if I had been in labour - my cousin and his girlfriend came dashing out of the lounge (they were on the sofa bed) and I cowered inside the bathroom, unsure whether to ever come out again. Tentatively I opened the door and screamed at Cuz to put on the light. He thought there had been an intruder. Trembling, I told him what had happened and deduced the only place the wee bugger could have run into - was my open bedroom door. I dashed up the small flight of stairs to my room and clung to my cousin like he was a hero in an action film. He crept down the stairs trying to imagine the horror that had come before, when his girlfriend shouted 'What's that?' Lo and behold a tiny mouse (she actually thought it one of my son's toys)was crouching in the corner of a stair. My cousin who can see nothing without his lenses - swung at it with a bat but the mouse tore down the stairs. I sent my cousin after it - dressed only in his pants. He hunted and discovered the blighter had escaped under my door. I sent Cuz out said door into a shared hall - where he found a massive hole around a pipe. I was prepared. I had bought that stuff that foams out and fills holes - and cousin and his brave girlfriend filled anything resembling a hole to within an inch of its life. We deemed the place a mouse free zone.

Until now.

The pest control folk will be here at 10am. £125 plus VAT. Bargain. Don't think I will ever be able to sleep in that bed ever again.

Part 2:

So a burly chap called Rod with no hair, a goatee beard and specs that magnified his eyes to enormous peepers, arrived at 8:30am. I think I told him I loved him before he had even got up the stairs. I had to wake husband who was disgusted. I didn't care. Rod my saviour had arrived. With a name like 'Rod' he sounded safe as houses. It's one of the those names isn't it? Like 'Ken' or 'Ron'. Safe, reliable - in good hands. Rod set to work and turned my tidy bedroom upside down in a bid to catch my unwanted guest. I heard him pull out my knicker/tights/socks drawer and for a moment was a bit embarrassed that Rod would be rooting around my smalls. This mere blush deepened somewhat when I remembered that an old Xmas gift from my best mate Esther lay gathering dust at the back of the drawer: my rampant rabbit - who was more of a resting rabbit these days. Next to it is a pair of fluffy pink handcuffs given to me on my hen night - I wonder what a delightful visual Rod had of me when he made these discoveries. He thundered around and came out the door a sweaty mess. He had spied the unwanted guest.

He returned with 'glue boards' and wire wool and various hunter type equipment, but was dismayed when mousey had given him the slip and disappeared up, or below the chimney. Kindly he filled all the holes and left me wire mesh to stop mousey, Santa or even Mary bleedin' Poppins getting down my chimney! He didn't meet my eye when he apologised about having to take out my drawers from beneath my bed. I tried to laugh off him having touched my pants but we both knew what he had really seen.

Kind calm Rod left after we had a twenty minute discussion on mouse proofing a home -apparently I have been meticulous at this - and he was shocked that a blighter had got past my fortress style precautions. I set to tidying the flat on a mere 3 hours sleep. That and getting sproglet ready for his child minder - thank the lord for her today. The rest of the afternoon was spent discovering my laptop has stopped working (my good friend Lisa came over and lent me hers - what an angel) my front door lock breaking and checking on my paint job that was hurriedly done on Saturday after water gushed down my lounge wall, post monsoon style weather.

All in all a cracker of an Easter. Hope the Easter Bunny was a dann sight kinder to you. To quote that not-so-well known Irish pop band 'D:Ream' and Blair's political campaign mantra of '97: 'Things can only get better...'

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