The mouse wasn't in my office but my bosses. Since I assist him with stuff I am apparently supposed to take care of this mouse. There are a lot of things I can do, but I don't do mice. Mice make me uneasy and I think they are gross.
I set-up traps in some offices, but I don't know who is going to check them and dispose of them when necessary. I do know it won't be me.
When I lived alone a mouse moved in with me. This particular mouse seemed to think he had been invited. After the first time we met he no longer fled I came into the room. He would look me right in the eye and then seemed to indicate we were out of chips. Soon after he moved in, I moved out.
I have a drawer full of food at work. I am tempted to throw all of it in the trash, no questions asked.
I really don't like mice.
2 comments:
Yuck, yuck, yuck. Nothing worse than a mouse. Sneaky little buggers.
This comment is going to be too long. I don't like mice either. I feel like I have developed some weird supernatural sense of them in our house. I'll have a few days feeling like there is something new and unseen living in our space and then one will turn up in our trap or we'll see one. They try to move into our house (and every other old house in our neighborhood) every fall. Jonny is responsible for the disposal of them. I refuse to even look at them when he throws them away, though the girls are often intrigued and want to take a look. Gross. I do not want mice in my house. The end.
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