I suppose I should backtrack here. So we had mice. Several. CreePaul put out snap traps, which made me sad, but as I never discovered any "successful" traps, it wasn't that big of a deal. The traps caught three mice, but I got home from work one evening to find a sprung trap and blood on the floor. But no mouse.
Not good.
About a week later, the kitchen was permeated with a definite smell of decay. I knew that it was a mouse, but I couldn't find it. Now that I know where CreePaul found the mouse, I feel like an asshat (right near the washer/dryer), because I would have found it had I looked harder.
He said that he's glad Jenny and I weren't there to see him act like a huge wuss. I'm just glad I don't throw up in my mouth every time I enter the kitchen. I think we should buy him cookies.
The mice never had a chance.
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