I thought for certain that living above a cat lady would provide me with an impregnable barrier against rodent infestation. This false sense of security lulled me into a blind, slothful state of indifference to the crumbs that may have occasionally ended up on my floor.
I was in my kitchen last nigh at about 1 am. I had entered with the intention of steaming some veggies, and then eating them. The problem with staying up until the post 1 o'clock hour, is that the last time I ate was probably at least 5-7 hours previous, which means my body thinks that it is time for another entire meal. I had a mad craving for french toast, but had decided that eating bread dipped in egg, and covered with butter, syrup, and strawberries would probably go straight to my neck if I ate it right before bed. So I made a compromise, and decided to go with the veggies.
I saw something move out of the corner of my eye, and didn't think much of it. But then that something emerged from my periphery, became a mouse, and ran across the counter top and behind a cutting board leaning against the wall by the sink to take, what I was hoping would be, a suicidal leap behind my stove. Unfortunately upon inspection, after I was done swearing and being acutely disgusted, I found that the creature did not in fact commit mousicide, but was indeed still living somewhere in the vicinity of my kitchen.
At least I didn't want to eat anymore.
Upon inspection of my food cupboard, I found several rat shitlings scattered throughout the lower shelf, and a gnawed through Ramen noodle seasoning packet. At least the little bastard had bad taste, and stayed out of my almond slivers and cliff bars.
I feel so violated. I feel like everything in my kitchen is tainted, and that I therefore must spend copious amounts of time cleaning and disinfecting everything. What the hell good is it having my own cat lady, if her useless felines can't keep mice from invading our home? She has upwards of 5 cats, for heaven's sakes. That delusive aura of kitty security has caused me to be a little too lax in my kitchen cleanliness, mostly in the sense of "I'll clean this dinner mess up in the morning." No more.
Off to get some rat poison. I don't want to use a conventional trap, because I have this grisly vision of a mouse getting its head snapped off, and spraying blood and haunta virus all over my kitchen like a Tarantino film. I may be a vegetarian, or a responsible omnivore, or something, but I refuse to coexist with rodents.