You have been the bane of my existence for almost one week now.
Last Saturday morning, I dismissed the slight scurrying I thought I saw out of the corner of my eye for maybe a million-legged bug (of which we have no shortage). But deep down I knew it.
You were the mouse. In my house. And you HAD to go.
Hubby set the traps, complete with a tasty peanut butter treat.
But they were no match for you. In fact, your picky palate didn't go for it. Maybe you were allergic to peanuts.
For a day or two we thought you left. Until we noticed the remnant of candy wrappers in and underneath my stove burners. Boy, was I steamed.
You liked Danae's candy treats...so much, in fact, that you stole two Tootsie Rolls and two Hershey's Kisses. Then we got smart.
That last Tootsie on the trap did you in, huh? Maybe next time you won't make your eyes bigger than your stomach.
Oh, wait...there won't be a next time. You're outside, in a trash can, and I'm inside praying that your potential little friends get the hint. This isn't Candy Haven, so stay out!