My parents and I returned from New York on Monday night, after a notably snow-free drive — something to be so thankful for seeing as the majority of the east coast ended up that craaazy storm. My sister lives in Brooklyn, and to paraphrase what she told us about the weather there, shit got real.
Driving from New York to Illinois in one day is doable. I believe it took us about 14 hours each way, maybe a little more, and that’s not a terrible drive, but it is exhausting, even a little-bit so if you’re a mere passenger (though I’ll have you know that this passenger barely slept the night before). I lasted about an hour after arriving home before I realized I needed to PTFO (or Pass the Fuck Out).
You would think, after a tiring drive and little sleep the previous night, that I would have done well and slept a good 8 or 9 hours uninterrupted, but no. Oh no. I drifted out of sleep around 3am, probably after completing one REM cycle, to hear a noise…a weird shuffling. I figured, in my sleepiness, one of the bags or the junk I’d hauled up the stairs into my room after we got back had settled or moved due to reasons of gravity, or something. Then I heard it again, something that sounded like…scurrying?! The sounds were emanating from around my closet door which happens to be at the head of my bed. I turned on my light and lay there quietly, waiting any further instances of noise. More noise came, but instead of scurrying this time, I heard a very faint “squeak squeak squeak. Squeak squeak squeak.”
I would have chalked this up to sleepy hallucinations, but dang. I rolled out of bed and opened my closet door to see if I could corner whatever creature was stirring. Aaaand…nothing. Cunning, squeaky bastards.
I managed to eventually fall asleep after a few hours of intermittent scurrying and squeaking. In the morning, the first thing I did was open my closet door once again, only to hear the same faint “squeak squeak squeak” with no visual evidence of a living creature.
DAMN MICE, GET OUT OF MY CLOSET.
Last night was roughly the same in terms of mouse activity and sleep-getting, with a lot of scurrying noises coming from the vicinity of my closet and me occasionally opening the closet door and making some noise in hopes of sending a message. Next time I need to send a louder message that better resembles “FFFUUU.” Or maybe write up some tiny eviction notices. That’s totally going to work.
This has happened once before, while we went on a trip to Europe when I was nine…a family of mice moved in to our house during our 3-week absence, leaving droppings everywhere and subsisting off of bird-seed that normally fed the parakeet. One day maybe a week after our return, I found a baby mouse crawling across the dining room carpet. I don’t know if it was sick or just having a slow day or if baby mice just aren’t known for their speed, but we trapped it in a beer glass, and then put it into an old hamster cage, not really knowing what to do with it. I named it Paul, and it died in about three days, at which point I proclaimed that “Paul is dead!” over and over again, completely aware of the great Paul Is Dead hoax thanks to my fantastic Beatle-obsessed piano teacher and a book she lent me on the very subject. I was an awesome nine-year-old.
I hate the idea of killing mice, even though I know they’re pests and there isn’t really any better way of dealing with them. I don’t want to have to walk into my closet each morning wondering if I’m going to see a trapped dead mouse. On the other hand, I really enjoy sleep and these mice are annoying nocturnal. Hmmmmm.
Sidenote: There are apparently some CRAZY websites dedicated to the whole Paul is Dead thing. Paul has always been my favorite Beatle since I was young, and while I’m pretty sure he’s not dead and that the person who we’ve all thought to be Paul McCartney since 1966 is actually Paul McCartney, I’ve gotta give the believers at least a B+ for effort. Urban legends are kind of cool, and I’m always amazed and kind of delighted by how much time and effort people put into their rationale of how it is that Paul is Dead or Elvis is Alive or The Chupacabra was found in Kentucky.