(For the first installment, click The Best Laid Plans.)
When we closed on our new house and I began to clean the kitchen, I saw evidence of furry friends that for some reason, I assumed was old evidence. I went to our former residence, happy with all I had accomplished and promptly forgot about the little scurrying creatures.
I returned to the new house and began to put my kitchen together. No evidence. This happened a few more times and I was blissfully ignorant of the nocturnal activities of our visitors. As was The Calm One, who for a short time resided in the house without us.
As seems to be typical of men (can I get an "amen?"), my husband did not notice that our visitors were leaving housewarming gifts for us. Just a couple at a time. But, nevertheless, they were there.
I wish they'd not been so generous. I also wish that The Calm One would . . . well, that's a post for another time.
Shortly after the chickadees and I moved in, I realized that the members of the Jubilant household were not alone. That's when The Calm One decided to mention that the guys who came to clean the duct work just happened to notice evidence on their own. Traps were set. All was well. At least I thought so.
It really wasn't that big of a deal for me at first. Before we bought it, our house had been vacant for some time and we live in a rural area, right across the street from a very large field. And another field just down the way. And another field just down the opposite way. You get the idea.
One night The Calm One was online and I was exercising while trying to catch up on dvr'd shows. The chickadees were sleeping, blissfully ignorant of the events to come.
"I think we got one!" The Calm One suddenly stage whispered while pumping a fist waist level and darting toward the kitchen. My enthusiasm markedly less. Imagine that.
I turned down the tv and listened. Sure enough those glue traps had something. The Calm One paused before opening the lazy susan (we have three! can I get a "woot?!") and I did the only thing I could think of short of leaving the house altogether: I got up on a bar stool. I was taking no chances.
"It's a baby one," he said. I immediately squelched my awwwww instinct at the notion of a baby-anything being trapped anywhere and raised an eyebrow. And then the other eyebrow joined the first when he finished with: "I'll get it in the morning when he's sure to be dead."
To be continued . . .