This afternoon I discovered the solution to my snacking problem. As I type this, the part of my brain that is saying, “Doesn’t that stroopwafel that you stole from the Amsterdam airport lounge and is just sitting in your kitchen cupboard sound good now?” is silenced because I cannot open my kitchen cupboard because THERE IS A MOUSE IN MY KITCHEN. Yes, nothing shuts up a craving for nuts like realizing you’ve been sharing those same nuts with a furry critter.
Earlier today I had a nut craving, so I was snacking on some peanuts — or as Tesco likes to call them, “roasted monkey nuts.”
Like a person with a snacking problem, I did not remove the bag from the drawer since I was “just going to eat a few.” After I finished the bag, I noticed some sunflower seeds had spilled in the back of the drawer. So I removed the sunflower seed bag to get closer to them. That’s when *I refuse to name him* shot out. You never know how you’re going to react in these types of situations until you’re in the middle of one.
I screamed like a little girl.
I watched in horror as the little mouse ran across the countertop, tried in vain to somehow go out the closed window, then jumped down off the counter and ran behind the washing machine. My heart was racing — it still is — as I called Ted, our super, in a panic. When he didn’t answer I called down to the porter.
“Hi, there’s a mouse in my kitchen,” I said as calmly as possible. Within a minute Paul was at my door with the net they use to clean leaves out of the courtyard fountain. He smiled, slammed it to the ground and then twisted it, demonstrating what he was going to do to my new flatmate. I think part of me is glad we couldn’t find the mouse just so I didn’t have to witness that. He assured me the little guy is more afraid of me than I him and that he’s probably traveled down the same way he got up and is now in someone else’s kitchen eating their nuts. Comforting. Ted called me back and said some things in his accent I can’t understand, but he is going to get it “sorted” with the building.
I’m getting flashbacks of my freshman year at university. My roommate and I had an impressive collection of instant ramen, which Stanley ate more than we did. Yes, we made the mistake of naming our reside varmint “Stanley.” Stanley eventually met his demise when maintenance set up traps while we were on Christmas break, but then neglected to check said traps and so we were met with the pleasant scent of Stanley’s demise when we returned to campus. I hope however Stanley’s British cousin meets his end is swift, stench-free, and preferably not decapitation via pool skimmer.