My Jacked Up Life

So, we know that I should not be left alone with hair products.

 We have a mouse in the house. I hate telling people that because I don’t want you to think that my house is dirty. But when you live next door to a 90 year old man who hasn’t cleaned out his garage since he got home from WWII, mice tend to come and they have no concept of property boundaries. Especially, in the cold weather.

Now that Gene lives here, he has been put in charge of ‘critter control’. This simply means that I don’t deal with this shit. Like most women, I freak out over things of the ‘rodent nature’. We don’t like anything associated with them either. I won’t touch mouse or glue traps. Even if they’re brand new, never been used, doesn’t matter. I know they’re not dirty but I know what they’re used for and that, in it’s self, is enough to freak me out.

Anyway….Gene sets out a couple of glue traps, but didn’t tell me where in the house he put them. Last night, I was cleaning the house for holiday company and I see something on the floor in a corner. I didn’t recgonize what it was, so I reached down to pick it up. After I touched it, I realized what it was and start to freak. Too late. It’s already stuck to my left hand. I start flinging my hand around in an effort to get it off. That works, it flew off somewhere.

 After I calm down, I start to look around but don’t see the trap anywhere.  I even looked up, thinking it might be stuck to the ceiling. Nope. After looking around for a couple of minutes, I start to walk away. That’s when I noticed something odd about my PJ pants. I look down and the damn glue trap was stuck to my leg the whole time.

Can you guess what happened next?

Yep. I freaked out. Funny thing is, you can’t out run a glue trap when it’s stuck to your pants.