The Reason Why Everyone Should Be Lucky Enough to Have a Friend Like Darren
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
I have a mouse.
He just ran across my apartment AGAIN. If you were here, you would have seen me stomping my feet like a tantruming three-year-old and screaming like someone was coming at me with a knife. Suffice it to say that I do NOT do well with rodents.
The especially unfortunate thing about this is that my roommate is out of town for the week. You can bet she's been getting hourly phone calls from me, in which she laughs at me and then suggests I call the super again. Generally, I handle the people we have to deal with while we live together. I do battle with the cable company, negotiate the deals with the brokers (we moved a few months ago), and provide the heavy hand that is often needed when dealing with landlords, supers, electric companies, and the like here in New York.
Gen, however, definitely pulls her weight (and then some). She sweeps weekly (praise be to her compulsive need to clean). She always gets the mail and unloads the dishwasher. She's really good about watering the plants and generally taking care of daily business--remembering we need half and half or butter or something.
And she deals with the rodents.
We had a big mouse problem at our last apartment. I'm still so traumatized by it that I have suppressed many of the memories, but they include:
*Standing on top of a barstool while she went into my room wearing clogs and wielding a broom b/c we had just seen a mouse run in there. She gave me one task: to see where it ran to so that we knew where the holes were. When it ran out of my room, I put my hands over my eyes and screamed at the top of my lungs, not catching where the thing ran at all.
*Rocking myself back and forth in the fetal position on the couch as the mouse ran around the kitchen (I heard it squeaking) until she came home, took charge, and ran it off.
*Standing on a barstool yet again as George the exterminator examined the place for the umpteenth time, finally decided to check behind the stove, and discovered an ENORMOUS hole that the fire department had made 2 and a half years earlier when the unit below us caught on fire, which George (who might as well have moved in given all the time he spent there) proclaimed to be "the New Jersey Turnpike. No WONDER you girls have so many mice!"
*Falling asleep to the "scratch, scratch, scamper, scratch scratch, scamper" of the mice in the wall behind my bed, and spending sleepless nights working up the nerve to thump on the wall and scatter them.
*Finally having a nervous breakdown one day, calling into work to take the day off, and screaming at my incredibly inept super to get his ass over there with his crew to fix everything, and personally overseeing the patching of every hole and the dispersal of every last bundle of steel wool.
So, as you can imagine, the fact that I am here for a week by myself with a mouse is pretty much one of my "biggest nightmare" scenarios. I've taken to stuffing things under my bedroom door at night in case the little guy goes foraging. I come home from work, turn on all the lights, stomp around and whistle (I am sure my neighbors below LOVE me), and then go put on my snowboots because they're the only things that make me feel safe. Last night, in between my bouts with some stomach virus, the little f*cker came out and I jumped up onto my white couch WITH MY BOOTS ON. And I haven't even thought twice about it. The fact that there's an enormous boot print on my couch pales in comparison with the fact that there is a mouse in my home.
So what exactly, you ask, does any of this have to do with Darren? See the email exchange below. All I have to say is that he is the best. friend. ever.
-----Original Message-----
From: Erinn
Sent: Tuesday, February 21, 2006 3:35 PM
To: Darren
Subject: RE:
I finally saw the mouse.
-----Original Message-----
From: Darren
Sent: Tuesday, February 21, 2006 3:38 PM
To: Erinn
Subject: RE:
Do you know where he's coming from?
-----Original Message-----
From: Erinn
Sent: Tuesday, February 21, 2006 3:52 PM
To: Darren
Subject: RE:
Yep--I think from the furnace and under the dishwasher. EW.
-----Original Message-----
From: Darren
Sent: Tuesday, February 21, 2006 3:53 PM
To: Erinn
Subject: RE:
Do you have traps?
-----Original Message-----
From:Erinn
Sent: Tuesday, February 21, 2006 3:54 PM
To: Darren
Subject: RE:
No and I'm terrified of using them. What if I come home and there's a dead or, worse, LIVE mouse there? I'd have a full-fledged nervous breakdown and I'd totally be traumatized.
-----Original Message-----
From: Darren
Sent: Tuesday, February 21, 2006 4:01 PM
To: Erinn
Subject: RE:
Get those sticky traps that don't kill them. It's creepy, but it's a lot less gross. If you catch one, give me a call, and I'll come and take care of him.
-----Original Message-----
From: Erinn
Sent: Tuesday, February 21, 2006 4:03 PM
To: Darren
Subject: RE:
You have never written anything that meant more to me than that last sentence.
He just ran across my apartment AGAIN. If you were here, you would have seen me stomping my feet like a tantruming three-year-old and screaming like someone was coming at me with a knife. Suffice it to say that I do NOT do well with rodents.
The especially unfortunate thing about this is that my roommate is out of town for the week. You can bet she's been getting hourly phone calls from me, in which she laughs at me and then suggests I call the super again. Generally, I handle the people we have to deal with while we live together. I do battle with the cable company, negotiate the deals with the brokers (we moved a few months ago), and provide the heavy hand that is often needed when dealing with landlords, supers, electric companies, and the like here in New York.
Gen, however, definitely pulls her weight (and then some). She sweeps weekly (praise be to her compulsive need to clean). She always gets the mail and unloads the dishwasher. She's really good about watering the plants and generally taking care of daily business--remembering we need half and half or butter or something.
And she deals with the rodents.
We had a big mouse problem at our last apartment. I'm still so traumatized by it that I have suppressed many of the memories, but they include:
*Standing on top of a barstool while she went into my room wearing clogs and wielding a broom b/c we had just seen a mouse run in there. She gave me one task: to see where it ran to so that we knew where the holes were. When it ran out of my room, I put my hands over my eyes and screamed at the top of my lungs, not catching where the thing ran at all.
*Rocking myself back and forth in the fetal position on the couch as the mouse ran around the kitchen (I heard it squeaking) until she came home, took charge, and ran it off.
*Standing on a barstool yet again as George the exterminator examined the place for the umpteenth time, finally decided to check behind the stove, and discovered an ENORMOUS hole that the fire department had made 2 and a half years earlier when the unit below us caught on fire, which George (who might as well have moved in given all the time he spent there) proclaimed to be "the New Jersey Turnpike. No WONDER you girls have so many mice!"
*Falling asleep to the "scratch, scratch, scamper, scratch scratch, scamper" of the mice in the wall behind my bed, and spending sleepless nights working up the nerve to thump on the wall and scatter them.
*Finally having a nervous breakdown one day, calling into work to take the day off, and screaming at my incredibly inept super to get his ass over there with his crew to fix everything, and personally overseeing the patching of every hole and the dispersal of every last bundle of steel wool.
So, as you can imagine, the fact that I am here for a week by myself with a mouse is pretty much one of my "biggest nightmare" scenarios. I've taken to stuffing things under my bedroom door at night in case the little guy goes foraging. I come home from work, turn on all the lights, stomp around and whistle (I am sure my neighbors below LOVE me), and then go put on my snowboots because they're the only things that make me feel safe. Last night, in between my bouts with some stomach virus, the little f*cker came out and I jumped up onto my white couch WITH MY BOOTS ON. And I haven't even thought twice about it. The fact that there's an enormous boot print on my couch pales in comparison with the fact that there is a mouse in my home.
So what exactly, you ask, does any of this have to do with Darren? See the email exchange below. All I have to say is that he is the best. friend. ever.
-----Original Message-----
From: Erinn
Sent: Tuesday, February 21, 2006 3:35 PM
To: Darren
Subject: RE:
I finally saw the mouse.
-----Original Message-----
From: Darren
Sent: Tuesday, February 21, 2006 3:38 PM
To: Erinn
Subject: RE:
Do you know where he's coming from?
-----Original Message-----
From: Erinn
Sent: Tuesday, February 21, 2006 3:52 PM
To: Darren
Subject: RE:
Yep--I think from the furnace and under the dishwasher. EW.
-----Original Message-----
From: Darren
Sent: Tuesday, February 21, 2006 3:53 PM
To: Erinn
Subject: RE:
Do you have traps?
-----Original Message-----
From:Erinn
Sent: Tuesday, February 21, 2006 3:54 PM
To: Darren
Subject: RE:
No and I'm terrified of using them. What if I come home and there's a dead or, worse, LIVE mouse there? I'd have a full-fledged nervous breakdown and I'd totally be traumatized.
-----Original Message-----
From: Darren
Sent: Tuesday, February 21, 2006 4:01 PM
To: Erinn
Subject: RE:
Get those sticky traps that don't kill them. It's creepy, but it's a lot less gross. If you catch one, give me a call, and I'll come and take care of him.
-----Original Message-----
From: Erinn
Sent: Tuesday, February 21, 2006 4:03 PM
To: Darren
Subject: RE:
You have never written anything that meant more to me than that last sentence.
This entry was posted
on Tuesday, February 21, 2006 at 4:08 PM.
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