Of Mice and Men

Okay, I’m renaming it:  Of Mice and Girl.

In the past two days, I have learned something about myself that I sort of suspected was true but hadn’t confirmed it:  I am NOT a “mouse person”.  Okay, so if you’ve seen me “in the flesh” you know I don’t have a tail or mouse ears or fur…I’m not defending myself against you thinking that because it’s just ridiculous.  I’m saying I have found that I have a great aversion to being in the presence of mice.  I suppose I knew this in part, though not in whole.  On rare occasions when my friends took retired lab rats as pets, I was never one to hold them or love them, and though they never had mice, I’d bet my reticence would have been the same.  So to say that I WAS a mouse person would have been an apparent lie, even at that point. 

Due to recent events, some details of which aren’t terribly important, I have had to confront the part of myself that would like to be brave and able to deal with whatever comes my way in a calm and collected manner but, quite simply, is not.  Now, in my defense, I’d like it to be known that I am not generally panicky.  When I was in the middle of being side-swiped by a semi on an unfamiliar portion of the Tennessee Interstate, was I incapacitated?  No.  In donating blood at the Red Cross Blood Donation Center, do I indulge in a scream even when, in fact, I am a little afraid of the giant needles?  No.  I could give you a list of things that I deal well with which I know others do not.  Another example:  I am not afraid of being alone in dark places (You know those people who check every corner of their house for burglars every time they come home, not because there are signs of a break-in, but because they’re just scared?  Yep, not that way.)  So while I may not be calm and collected 100% of the time, I think it’s safe to say that I am calm and collected a great majority of the time.

That said, I have learned mice bring out the part of me that I would like to believe didn’t exist.  Yesterday, when I saw three live mice wandering around, each at a different point in time, I reacted very negatively.  Upon seeing the first one, I jumped.  With the second one, I screamed like–I PROMISE!–I have never screamed before (in my defense, it was less than twelve inches from my foot!!!).  For the third one, I didn’t do too much because I was on the phone, calling in the troops (Thanks, Aaron and Taryn!). 

Skipping ahead, past the setting of the traps (traumatic enough to include, yet not really a “page turner” of a story), when it came time to go to sleep I had a really difficult time.  I was still jittery five hours later, so it was well after 2am when I finally fell asleep.  Then, to make matters worse, I dreamt about mice!  Keep in mind, please, that I have one dream a month, at the very most, and there are times I go several months without dreaming; also, I can’t tell you the last time I had an actual nightmare.  I wouldn’t go so far as to say that what I dreamt of last night qualified as nightmares, but they were definitely not happy dreams, either.

Anyway, you know the basics of the story, so here’s the part where I confess the things I now know about myself:

• I can NEVER claim to like mice (not that I would have to begin with).
• I can set non-springy mousetraps, but not springy ones.
• Under no circumstances can I dispose of dead mice (well, maybe if I was genuinely the only person able to do it I could muster the courage, but I haven’t yet seen that state of affairs).
• I cannot imagine a situation in which I could kill a mouse that was running at me, or probably even sitting there (excepting, perhaps, the situation in which everyone will be caused physical harm if I’m not the one who does it; again, not something I’ve seen happen).
• When confronted with mice, there is at least a part of me that wants to scream like a girl (bizarre to say, I know, since I am a girl), and sometimes that very desperate part of me finds a voice.
• I can know perfectly well that there is no cause for worry, fear or panic, but in this situation that’s what I do, whether I want to or not.

Guys, I don’t have mice at my own house, but it is my resolve never to let them set one pink toe on my teal carpet.  I don’t want to let it develop to the point that they’re inside, so it’s got to be a first-strike action plan, preventative measures and such.  Ideas?