Between Some Rocks and a Darned Place

Did I mention that Hick is driving out west to visit his brother in Vegas? Pretty sure I did. Not that I have a countdown going or anything. Though you know what they say: "While the rat's away, the mice will play." I certainly hope that's not the case around here...

Hick remembered a certain relative collects rocks. He had a coffee can of really special rocks (?) that he got from my grandma, who was, indeed, a rockhound. Collected them, polished them, made earrings and necklaces and bracelets, which she sold at the annual Mineral Museum event up at the old lead mine state historic site. Hick wanted to take a few of these rocks to the relative.

"I think they're up in the attic. I didn't see them down in my safe room."

We haven't been up in the attic in 15 years, I bet. I know I haven't. I don't think I've ever been up in the attic. The closest was when I climbed the pull-down ladder in the ceiling of the laundry room, and stuck my head and shoulders up in there to watch Genius fetch something he was sent after. Who knows what treasures are in the attic? The best I remember, it's Rubberbmaid tubs of stuff Hick said we could store up there. Like the boxes to the boys' GameBoy stuff, and other things Hick thought might eventually be collectible if you had the original packaging.

Anyhoo... Hick went up in the attic on Saturday. I thought he planned to send The Pony, but I didn't hear any complaining, and The Pony didn't mention such an adventure. And then Hick proclaimed on Sunday morning (at 2:30 p.m.):

"We have mice in the attic."

"NOOOO! You'll be gone on your trip, and you're leaving me with MICE?"

"Oh, it ain't nothin'. I'll get 'em."

 

"Did you SEE mice?"

 

"No. But you could tell they'd been there."

 

"Who knows how long ago THAT was? Wouldn't you think we'd see signs of them in the rest of the house? You said we had them in the attic before, when you caught two of them in the bathroom vent/fan/light. There's nothing down here to show we have mice. Nothing nibbled, no turds, no hairless pink babies in your pockets..."

 

Heh, heh. One time when the older boys were teenagers, they went to the BARn with Hick to get his coveralls. I think it was fall, and they were going to shoot bows in the field, or trim some trees. Hick took his coveralls off a hook and put them on. When he reached his hand in the pocket, according to HOS (Hick's Oldest Son):

"You should have heard it, Val! Dad screamed like a little girl! All because of some baby mice."

Anyhoo... Hick went to Lowe's Monday morning, on a mouse mission. He didn't speak of his plans. I only found out when I got up around 11:45, and saw Hick's remedy in the kitchen. There was another in the living room, and one in our bathroom, and one I found later in the basement, in the NASCAR bathroom.

 

 

It's the glowy purple thingy. The top one is the emergency light that comes on when the power goes off. We have them in multiple rooms, too. I don't know if this magic light really keeps mice away. Maybe it emits something sonic that hurts their big ears. Maybe it hurts their eyes. Maybe it's all a scam! Just a placebo for wives whose husbands don't want to trap mice...

I'm not really sure Hick saw evidence of current mice. It's been temperatures in the mid-90s around here for three weeks. I'm pretty sure if mice are in our attic, they're limp with exhaustion, leaning back with tiny towels draped across their privates, chatting about their glory days as they take a steam in the humidity of the 100+ heat index in our attic sauna.

There COULD be mice up there, but I would be more of a believer if it was fall. That's when they've made their way in before. Big-eared field mice, one every few years, which we trap in the old wooden snappers baited with cheese or Cheeto. We live in the woods and fields. Mice happen. They're not pointy-nosed city rats that can carry a whole slice of pizza. So I'm not that creeped out. It's not like that baby mole we found in the basement. My skin still crawls at the thought.

Anyhoo... Hick seems to think his gadgets will protect me while he's gone.