I saw him again, oh yes.
The time: 12.30 am. The place: My hallway. The winner: Undecided.
I did not sleep well. I had pushed a towel against the bottom of my door (I’m sure only for my own psychological benefit and not for any real use) and I stared at the ceiling for a long time.
Eventually I had to pee, of course I did, my bladder is hateful. So I carefully opened my door. I had left the hall light on, cos mice don’t like light do they? But my flatmate had turned it off. I hit the switch, and there he was (twas a he, I have decided), bold as bloody brass, in the middle of the hall. Right you bugger, I am not having this. This is MY house! He pegged it down to the bathroom as I walked, so I wedged the front door open with my laundry basket, shoved more towels under the doors to block his way, and made for the kitchen. I shuffled past him and grabbed the broom, and stood with my body half in the kitchen and half in the hall. And then I stared at him for ten minutes.
I know it is ridiculous to be so wound up over such a tiny thing, and it is much more scared of me than I am of it, and all that, but still. I probably could have smushed him with the broom to be honest. He was so scared and totally still. I did feel sorry for him. A bit. But it’s one thing to set traps (which I don’t really like doing), its another to smash his head in with a broom. I have a line, you know? Plus, the clean up would be a bitch.
I plucked up the courage to actually move and he ran off in the direction of the front door. Success!! …And ran behind the door. Bollocks. Move the other way you dumbass! So I poked him a bit and he stopped in the door hinge. There could have been an ugly death right there, but I caught the door. Again, mouse guts all up the wall? I don’t want to deal with that. He ran back and hid behind the laundry basket. Motherf*cker! Just go away!
And then Houdini disappeared. Poof. Gone. I don’t know whether he legged it down the stairs while I was looking behind the basket, or if he’s found a way into it and is right now curled up happily in my dirty washing, but he was gone. And I was knackered, and so I went back to bed. Leaving the basket in the hallway, just in case.
I called the estate agents yesterday morning, who were very nice about it, and said they would send someone round, but if we thought it was just a one off could we try traps first? And while I’d rather they send round the bomb squad and fettle every inch of the flat, it is possible it got in through the front door (the chap upstairs works on his bike out front and leaves the door open) and hasn’t actually taken up residence with his mice pals. So I will get traps and we will see.
Thank god there’s cake.