I recently moved back into my parents house while I job hunt to help save myself some money and because they let me. My old room was still available to me, but it is super far away from the router and my desktop currently doesn’t have a working wireless card, so my computer lives in the basement, which is chock full of random stuff. Also, their house is on what used to be farm land, down the road from what is still actively a farm.
This information will, mostly, be relevant to the story.
We had the house power washed today and the dog is possibly terrified of the power washer, so we hid down in the basement, where my computer lives, and did dog things until the mean/delicious power washer man left us alone.
After the man left, I had gone back to applying for the 26 billion jobs that are posted online, when I felt something soft waft quickly across my foot. I assumed it was a spider or some other basementy bug, but then remembered (a) bugs/spiders are not typically soft and (b) the dog had been down there, I probably had just found a toy he snuck down.
I was incorrect.
Apparently, a field mouse had managed to get into the basement and it went on a little adventure. After running across my foot, he scampered all around my computer desk, perching on top of my speakers, which is where I finally spotted him and connected “mouse” to “thing on my foot”. After sniffing his fill on my desk, he shot over to the “furniture zone” that some basements seem to have, where outdoor furniture goes when it gets cold and old couches go to die.
This is also where I had left a pair of pants.
Our friend, the mouse, decides that his day has been just jam packed full of sliding around the cold, well lit basement, and he needs a break, possibly somewhere darker than the regular basement floor. This decided, he takes refuge… in the pocket of the pants I left folded on the couch. Unfortunately for Mr. Mouse, I saw him slide on into his new pockety home.
Deciding this had gone on long enough, I trapped him in the pocket with a sleeve of golf balls and a coffee mug, but this left a small gap through which he could effect an escape, and I absolutely having none of that, thank you very much. I rifled through my mother’s collection of miscellaneous junks and found an old square-mouthed vase that had a larger opening than my pants pocket, and pulled some David Copperfield slight of hand on the golf ball-coffee mug pocket door.
I have no idea what the resolution of the vase/pants trap will be, as Mr. Mouse’s friend, Dr. Gainnis A. Pontikos just scared the living bejesus out of me, by introducing himself the same way his friend did.
Guess we’re going to have to put out some less elaborate, more successful traps.