If you are looking for the post I wrote yesterday on my favorite verses, click here.
Now, about my mice situation...
I love how smart you girls are! Seriously, a mouse in the house is no match for my bloggy friends. As of right now I have located the entry point for the mice.
A hole in my fireplace.
Two holes actually.
The mice chewed two holes through the mortar of my fireplace. CHEWED THROUGH CEMENT! Let's pause here for a moment.
Chewed... that means they have teeth.
Through... that means they have some serious muscles in their jaws.
Cement... that means their teeth are sharp like chisels.
Hello!!!
Oh my stars, if they can do this to a fireplace what might happen to my flesh should they ever get a hold of me?
And that thought alone helps to usher that "I can't kill things because my maternal instincts are too strong" feeling right out of my body.
But like any woman I decided to try and talk things out first. "Listen to me little mice. I am going to cover up these holes with some really pretty duct tape because I can't guarantee that I won't hurt you. I'm serious. Catch me off guard on a hormonal day and all bets are off. We're talking sticky traps and broom beatings and snap traps. I might even borrow Holly's cat. Now, things don't have to get to those extremes so please see this tape as a protective measure for both of us."
With that, I got my hot pink duct tape and covered the two holes quite generously. Because nothing says swanky house quite like hot pink duct tape on a stone fireplace.
We rednecks think duct tape fixes everything.
And you know what?
I haven't seen a mouse run across the floor since I had said conversation and put up said duct tape. But heaven help me if they use those horrific teeth of theirs to burrow a new hole anywhere near my pantry or my bed.
You can't mess with a redneck's food or sleep y'all.
That, my friends, would be all out war.
Happy weekend.
Congrats Lelia. The mice liked your poem. And I love this post Lelia wrote. You must take time to read it.
Now, about my mice situation...
I love how smart you girls are! Seriously, a mouse in the house is no match for my bloggy friends. As of right now I have located the entry point for the mice.
A hole in my fireplace.
Two holes actually.
The mice chewed two holes through the mortar of my fireplace. CHEWED THROUGH CEMENT! Let's pause here for a moment.
Chewed... that means they have teeth.
Through... that means they have some serious muscles in their jaws.
Cement... that means their teeth are sharp like chisels.
Hello!!!
Oh my stars, if they can do this to a fireplace what might happen to my flesh should they ever get a hold of me?
And that thought alone helps to usher that "I can't kill things because my maternal instincts are too strong" feeling right out of my body.
But like any woman I decided to try and talk things out first. "Listen to me little mice. I am going to cover up these holes with some really pretty duct tape because I can't guarantee that I won't hurt you. I'm serious. Catch me off guard on a hormonal day and all bets are off. We're talking sticky traps and broom beatings and snap traps. I might even borrow Holly's cat. Now, things don't have to get to those extremes so please see this tape as a protective measure for both of us."
With that, I got my hot pink duct tape and covered the two holes quite generously. Because nothing says swanky house quite like hot pink duct tape on a stone fireplace.
We rednecks think duct tape fixes everything.
And you know what?
I haven't seen a mouse run across the floor since I had said conversation and put up said duct tape. But heaven help me if they use those horrific teeth of theirs to burrow a new hole anywhere near my pantry or my bed.
You can't mess with a redneck's food or sleep y'all.
That, my friends, would be all out war.
Happy weekend.
Congrats Lelia. The mice liked your poem. And I love this post Lelia wrote. You must take time to read it.
Home