I shouldn't be surprised. Our house backs up to a nature preserve, so we see an abundance of wildlife. But somehow we managed to make it all through last winter with nary a mouse in sight.
I thought we had immunity from these devils.
But a month ago I was cleaning out our pantry, when I noticed a couple of graham crackers have been nibbled at.
I knew it was a mouse, but I figured that since I could find hardly any mouse droppings, it was just the one. We set out traps and, lo and behold, we caught a mouse.
Feel my rath!
But late one night my husband went into the kitchen for a nighttime snack, and what was standing in the middle of our kitchen? Another mouse, mocking him, daring him to set up more traps. So, that's just what we did, and the next morning? There were two mice was in the traps.
Take that, [explative of your choosing here.]
We still didn't find any mouse droppings, so we figured the problem was solved. But a few days later, what did Husband find in the basement? A small mouse nest containing a sizable pile of almonds. We never eat almonds. Where did they come from?!
So, we set the traps out one more time, just in case.
And when I woke up the next morning, what sight greeted me in the kitchen? Three mice. Three mice. Three. It was like some sort of mouse suicide pact.
So I'm fed up. We keep the kitchen nearly spotless, and keep our food wrapped up tightly. There's been no more indications of mice in our abode, but now I'm paranoid. I know those buggers are out there biding their time. And when I let my guard down, they'll reappear, wrecking havoc on my already jangled nerves.