Of all the mysteries that exist in my world, the biggest one at the moment is this: how is it possible for a household that boasts six cats (four in, two out) and a virtually empty larder to have mice? Do the mice not realize that there is usually nothing to eat in Mox’s kitchen?
New Year’s Eve: open the “junk” drawer in my kitchen to grab the scissors and discover that both of my (nice, thick) oven mitts have been chewed up. Investigate the utensil drawer (the scene of the last murine crime) to discover… ahem… little turds. Spend the rest of the afternoon furiously scrubbing the insides of both drawers, washing/sanitizing the contents, and pitching wholesale the unsalvageable (goodbye, perfectly seasoned but now splintered wooden spoons! farewell, brand-new but nibbled silicone stirrer! au revoir, entire collection of rubber spatulas!). Curse feline populace.
New Year’s Day: host annual Health & Wealth gathering, replete with black-eye peas, cabbage, cornbread, and rice. Spend entire time shuttling back and forth to cardboard box being utilized as ersatz utensil drawer. (Dog will eat the corners off the box if it’s left at his level, so it has to sit in one of the dining room chairs.) Use damp tea towel as oven mitt. Continue to curse feline populace. Set old-fashioned snap mousetrap in now-empty utensil drawer, bait with peanut butter.
January 2, 2013: Open utensil drawer. Discover more little turds, a hole chewed in the drawer lining, and…. an empty mousetrap, cleaned of peanut butter bait. Curse feline populace yet again.
2013: off to an auspicious start, no?