Friday, May 30, 2008


So I went to feed the dog this morning, and wouldn't you know it. There was a mouse in the trap. I would LOVE to say that I was cool, calm and collected, and dealt with it in an adult fashion. But I didn't. Instead, I freaked out, called Grant and started to rant and rave about how gross it was to have a house "infested" with mice. I don't do mice.
It never fails. As soon as he leaves for work, you know what hits the fan. The last time he left, the water pipes froze and we had no water. And they froze bad. No amount of heat tape, or insulation, or anything else I tried worked. My MIL and I finally sawed the pipe off of the house.
Mice have been a problem before. I have had to call neighbors over to save me from them. I did that again today. How embarrassing. But how gross. I HATE that I can't handle dealing with mice; dead or alive. I would love to be that independent, strong farm wife, but alas, I am a high maintenance, easily flustered girl, who freaks out at the smallest thing.

Oh, and don't get me started about the coyote that was in our yard this morning.

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