It’s that time of year again, when the nights are drawing in and dark o’clock comes earlier and earlier in the evening and hangs around far too long in the morning.
You try to ignore the clock and stay snuggled in bed, nesting.
(Sadly without the cat – my evil black and midnight Monster was run over last year by some scumbag who doesn’t believe speed limits exist at 3am. I found it very traumatic, I don’t want to talk about it.)
Snuggled in bed, nesting....
This morning it wasn’t my internal clock that woke me, it was a sound I recognise from way back when I was little and we lived in the middle of nowhere – the harsh, abrasive sound of a mouse chewing its way through cardboard.
Better than a rat, most definitely – I’ve got nothing against rats per se. Pet rats are lovely. But the wild ones ... they get my hackles up, when they’re not caught being very cute in that brief second when the light comes on and then they vanish at light speed.
Both sets of rodent are considered vermin, both sets can be very cute and “ooh-aah, look at its little nose, and its ickle paws. Aah.” And both sets can be very, very destructive. Chewing through cardboard is the least of their sins.
Mice like nesting in paper. As a writer I have a fair bit of paper hanging around; carefully stored in boxes – ideas and inspirations noted down over the years, to work on later.... So I guess mice love my environment as much as I do, but in a way that makes me panic.
I have set up two live traps (self-made, so it may be a disaster), and baited them. Hopefully I’ll catch the little bugger and transport him away somewhere safer. He, or *horrified gasp* she, can spend the winter nesting somewhere well away from me thank you very much.
My nest is mine, I tell you. MINE! Grrrrrrr.