OK, so the unwelcome furry friend in the kitchen isn't leaving. We found out he has decided to take up residence under my sink. Monkey asked if we could please catch Mickey in a box & keep him because he is "soooo coot Mama"
We never picked up the icky disgusting glue trap because the hubby has decided to drown him instead!!
Won't that be fun?
"Oh joy, nothing like waking up to a floating rodent"
I figured I had to come up with a better way of gettin Mickey outta my abode. But in light of recent events I've decided that if The Hubby wants to take a shotgun to Mickey, I'll provide the shells. I know, I know, it sounds terribly harsh, but really he's gotta go. Mickey has crossed the line...
Do you know what he did?
He touched me!!!!!
Now, I know there's seasoned Supermoms out there who think I'm bein' a big fat sissy. And I happily agree, didn't I already state that Mickey is my Kryptonite???
That furry little thing skittered past my ankle & I flew on a chair & was sitting pretty on the table when The Hubby came to see why I squealed! Honestly, he couldn't get me down for a few minutes. I also cleaned off my appendage with some Lysol. Of course The Hubby has been laughing at me since my less then super reaction & I'm OK with that.
I've decided whenever I enter the kitchen, to wear legwarmers...and boots...& maybe a big fat snowsuit too.