I ask you, ladies and gentlemen, is this the face of a cold, hard, killer?
The answer my friends, is yes.
Apparently, in addition to killing several small deer on a semi-annual basis, and frequently depriving countless bottles and cans of various beer of their "joi de vive," my fiance also has pretty nice mouse killing skills.
I first noticed the mousy evidence in the garage where, quite a bit of recycling sat for quite a period of time. I was putting the Christmas decorations away on Saturday, and saw what looked like egg shells and coffee grounds on the floor of the garage. Suspicious, I took care when emptying the Christmas storage containers, and there I found the turds.
Well, this prompted an expedited return of said recyclables, followed by a plan of action that brought all our books and pictures back into the house (they have been in the garage since we moved in since we didn't bring any bookcases with us from NY and had no place for them). This all required moving the living room furniture around and "making creative use of space."
Then, my sweet little muffin of a man and I went shopping and got some mouse traps, hair color and roast beef. We had sandwiches, I got rid of the gray, and he set the traps (he didn't bait them, this caused some debate, but I figured this was his party, he knew how to invite people to it).
When we came out into the garage to leave for work yesterday, he said "Get in the car and I'll be there in a minute."
So of course my response was "Don't tell me what to do, I'll get in the car when I am good and ready - you are not the boss of me! I choose NOT to get in the car right now just to spite you!!"
To which he replied "I think I caught some mice and I didn't think you would want to see it."
My response "OOH, dead mice...I TOTALLY want to see that!"
Yup - he got two of them. They were tiny little field mice, very thoroughly dead and he handled the traps and got rid of them like a good little boy. It can be so nice having a guy around the house - not that I couldn't have done all this myself, but it was really nice that I didn't have to.
The point of this, besides don't leave your recycling in the garage for three months, is that you had better watch out. The man I am going to marry is dangerous - you never know when he might go off and break your neck and not even leave you a little peanut butter or cheese to entice you with.
Mice of Boise beware, Chris K has your number, and your number is up!