The calendar has been screaming "WINTER" for months but the planet thinks otherwise. Nonetheless, it's that time when cold weather makes little creatures seek warmth, and in this complex where I live, that means mice. For some, you already know how wonderful my habitat is Why Would I Move? and if not, you can read about it. This complex takes up a huge city block and is more secure than the bank account I wish I had.
I've seen the commercials for weeks now, trying to frighten me into buying those spring-traps in case, heaven forbid, a furry little long-tailed creature wants to sleep under my frig. In the 8 years I've lived here, the only time I saw any other forms of life were when I moved in (an ant) and a few years ago (a mouse who saw me and immediately climbed back into the walls, ne'er to be seen again). But I must be pragmatic so Saturday I called the maintenance people and asked about mouse-traps. Within an hour, a duly-uniformed man appeared at my door pushing his cart full of any-and-everything necessary to live as a human being. Like light-bulbs.
In very broken Spanish I told him what I needed, though he knew already, but I was trying to convey my concern about those spring-loaded torture devices. I needn't have - he proudly displayed the very humane "sticky pads" used for some time now to safey catch a mousie then release it in the neighbor's yard. I was delighted, and said I'd take five - cinco - he looked at me strangely but I assured him it was only my greed, not a hoard of mice, that made me ask for so many.
It was Saturday and fast becoming night - I wanted to watch my cop shows, so after a hurried "muchas gratias" I stored three and unpeeled the safety-paper from two, which I then strategically placed in my kitchen where I thought the attack would come from. Following instructions, I never touched the sticky side of the pad which, to me, looked harmless enough. Feeling like a member of Greenpeace, I decided I'd done my part and after a shower, got comfy with the TV. As usual, American's Most Wanted showed me faces which I imprinted on my memory - in this largest of New Jersey's cities, I'd already seen one "TV star" of that show only blocks from here. During a commercial for football, I fell asleep.
It was around 3 a.m. when my mind started making logical pictures again, and I knew I was awake. But very thirsty. With my toasty knitted socks on, I padded into the kitchen with half-closed eyes, thinking about cool waterfalls. After getting a tumbler full of water I padded back to the bed and started climbing in. As I tucked my feet into the still-warm sheets, I cried out in a kind of weird "WHA...?" because there was a big sheet of cardboard stuck to my foot. And I do mean STUCK. Fast slipping out of bed I pulled my foot out of the sock then tried to tear that sock off the sticky stuff. No way. Wouldn't budge, wouldn't move, it was as planted as if nailed there. As I struggled, my fingers kept getting stuck on the darn thing too. Then as I changed position, my other foot hit the paper and WHAM I'm stuck again. Letting go an old Italian oath, I pulled my other foot from the sock and stared down at these two lovely hand-knitted argyle socks stuck like two giant green aliens on a piece of sticky-something. Now I'm getting mad. At my idiocy. And somehow, at that maintenance guy, the poor soul. He should've told me these things could trap humans, too. And their socks.
Nothing worked. Not even my largest, sharpest knife could pry those socks away. Now I'm thinking more logically: Yeesh these are the special socks Mern knitted for me for Christmas, damn it. ( Remember Mern of Thelma and Louise fame? ) I didn't want to lose these thick silly looking things, I really used them alot and expert knitter she be, Mern did make them just for me. So I put the whole lot under the sink and ran hot water over them. I have NO idea why. It only made everything worse. What to do, what to do .....
There is no ending to this tale, the sticky pad which caught my socks is sitting in the hallway under my old walker, where I (hopefully) can't trap anything else as dangerous as clothing. It's now Monday afternoon, and I think I hear tiny laughter from the kitchen walls.......