Vermin and the Phantom Dustbunnies

Sadly, that is not the title of my new favourite band; it is a DESCRIPTION of what is happening in my HOUSE. [Warning: Readers who are easily shocked should be aware—there may be a lot of capitalised words in this post.]

I got home, and noticed that in the kitchen, there was fine grey dust over the counter by the fridge, and big clumps of dust on the floor next to it. This is weird because I cleaned behind the fridge and vacuumed the coils only last week. I asked my roomie if she knew what it was- she didn't, and had a far more important issue to share. She had seen a MOUSE that evening by the dishwasher!!! Now, I'm not particularly creeped out by mice, per se. I have dealt with them and with traps before, and I find spiders much scarier, but I do object to having my castle infested by rodents. Ick! Gluh! Blech!

I immediately went and bought four traps, and the nice lady in Smiths reassured me that she didn't think I was a dirty squatter who eats off the floor. She says that it's the cold weather driving them indoors. My mum says the same thing, and that it doesn't mean I'm living in squalor and never wash. I could tell the Smiths lady definitely thought I was a girly wimp for wanting a somewhat humane killing method, though. I must admit I doubt the effectiveness of traps that aren't springloaded and don't have cheese bait, but we'll see.

We pulled the refrigerator out, rather apprehensively. I must admit I was imagining a scene of horror, reminiscent of plague-era Europe, with a mice-nest, roaches, rats, and possibly an open sewer. But no, just more dust. Which is just as well. If I actually saw a cockroach I think I'd have to burn the place down and move out. Hm. Perhaps reverse the order of those two.

It gets creepier. This morning I walked into the kitchen, the traps were still empty, but there was MORE DUST. In the EXACT same places. So I spent MORE time vacuuming and cleaning. I was so discomfited I put shampoo on my shower pouf this morning and nearly went to work without a bra. It's got to be mouse-related, right? Or do I have a dusty poltergeist? Please, do any of you have explanations? (Note: explanations should not involve giant spiders, cockroaches, or anything else likely to give me nightmares. Perhaps explanations could involve fairies.)

Now none of you are ever going to want to visit my house again, and I will end up a sad lonely spinster without even a dozen cats for company, because condo rules don't allow it. Of course, if they did, this whole problem could be eliminated, because the cat would KILL and EAT the mouse. Though, are cats even mousers, these days? They're probably too busy with their custom built scratching posts and iPods.

I am trying not to be paranoid about mice running over me in the night and am instead working on imagining the mouse as one that might be found in a Disney movie – it talks, sings, and perhaps will make me a pretty new frock.