3 blind mice

I have the heebie-jeebies just thinking about this, so if you have a weak stomach, feel free to skip down to the picture of my house.



So, earlier this week, I was working on this:


I have an irish bride who wants these as gifts for her bridesmaids... Anyways, the flowers are pressed between two pieces of glass. Because of this, I usually wear latex gloves while working with the glass so that I don't get any fingerprints on it. I keep my latex gloves under my kitchen sink. So, imagine my horror when I see mice terds on the gloves I pulled out. EWWWWWWW!!!! Oh, it was so disgusting. Yuck, yuck yuck!

For the record, I know I have publicly complained about my husband when he is sick. Seriously, I must take back ANY not nice thing I have ever said about him. He is the bestest awesomest husband in the universe, and even if he is bad at being sick, I'll keep my mouth shut about it forever more.

My awesome husband bought some "blind" mouse traps. Its a box so that you don't have to see the mouse if you catch it. Lovely right? Ugh, there goes my stomach again. Anyway, he set up the trap, caught a mouse, set it up again, caught another mouse, set it up again... you get the picture. The best way I could describe my feelings to Benson was that I felt violated. Like my house had been broken into, and my security had been stolen. Yet somehow, I do feel somewhat safer NOW, knowing that they are gone, and the traps are still out for any friends who may be still around. (oh, AND that Benson will take care of the blind traps for me so I don't have to see ANY of it...)

I have no doubts that they got in during our construction project. Our crawl space is missing a window box, and I'm sure they snuck in our make shift boarding. Speaking of which, my house still looks like this:
My contractor has promised that he will resume our project in the next week or two. I cannot wait! It's been more than a little inconvenient... we can hardly pull into our driveway because of the pile of gravel, we have no power to the garage, oh, and we can't really use the garage anyway because all the tools and supplies are in there. Yea, that was really fun this winter with all the snow and ice storms. Anyway, it will all be worth it when its finished! He says it will probably take 2-3 weeks to finish up... So I'm counting on it taking at least a month. :)

And a quick story to top of the post.

Since Benson was going to be starting his new job, we had to go over to my parents house and retrieve his poor beat up car from their garage. The door on the drivers side doesn't function anymore. It doesn't close completely and it also doesn't open from the outside. So, since our garage was out of commission and we were'nt really using it anyway, we had it over there. While the car was sitting in idleness at my parents house, the registration came due. We let it lapse since we weren't driving it, and it seemed smarter to buy food than registration on a car we couldn't drive anyway. Well, we retrieved that car and Benson drove it to his new job on Monday. As he pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant, a cop pulled in behind him. Lovely, right. So, the story is the cop ran the plates and saw the car wasn't registered. Benson explained this was his first day back to work after not having a job (or driving the car) for the past 4 months, and that he had every intention of registering it ASAP. So, the cop asks for his license and proof of insurance. You guessed it, the insurance card was an expired one, we hadn't gotten the new card into the car while it sat in idleness. And to top it off, the cop says, " Um, your license expired on your birthday." For those who don't know, his birthday was LAST WEEK! Seriously?! What are the chances? The cop had to take him to the station! When Benson called me, all I could do was laugh. I'm pretty sure the first words out of my mouth were "That's AWESOME." I went online and the car was registered 2 minutes later. Amazingly, he made it to work on time despite all the fiasco. I hope that's not a sign of things to come.