Scarydad vs. Whatever is Living in the Attic
Sometimes I have a hard time admitting that I'm dumb. It's not denial, per se. It's that I know lots of stuff about things and so when it comes to being dumb, I most often have an event or successful accomplishment I can point to that will prove I actually have more than three brain cells firing at the same time.
Then it had to go and rain really hard.
Last week we had a few days of nearly constant thunderstorms during which time something decided to take up residence our attic. I presume it's because the attic is warm and dry, but apparently it was so that I can have "Figure out how it got in and seal it up" on my honeydo list.
Also "Kill whatever it is that's making the scritching sounds in the attic at night."
Kill something, you say? I'm on it!
So I go to the store and skip past all the hippy dippy stuff and go right for the good old-fashioned snapper traps. But is it a rat or a mouse? I don't know. Better get one of each and cover all bases, right? Right. I get home and put a nice glop of peanut butter on each trap, lay down a sheet of cardboard to keep rat/mouse juice from splattering the floor of the attic, then carefully set the traps.
And for three days nothing happened.
Each morning before work I would poke my head up there and check my traps and each morning there they were, set and at the ready. Each evening I sat in my office writing and not hearing the scritching and scrittering that had been there before. Maybe they really did just move in to wait out the rain? Does that even happen?
Tuesday morning of last week, my wife asks me when's the last time I checked the traps. Yesterday before work, I tell her. She says I should maybe check them because something smells. I agree, make a fart joke, and then climb up to check the traps.
Well, it seems we have a problem. The rat trap is still set and ready to snap a neck, which is, I guess, the next best thing to actually having snapped a neck that a rat trap could be doing. The mouse trap, on the other hand, is gone.
There's a certain unhappy feeling one experiences when a mousetrap goes missing.
It's made worse by the knowledge that whatever took it survived just long enough to get well hidden somewhere down in the wall and that unpleasant odor you only just began to notice is about to get a lot worse.
Oh yeah, and having to come down from the attic and reveal this wonderful discovery to your very-pregnant wife? That's not too fun either.
It's been a week and there have been several times when I thought about that scene from Se7en where the victim was covered in those little tree air-fresheners for your car, and I wonder if that would really work. I can tell you that apple-cinnamon Glade has nothing on this dead critter. Nothing at all.
At least the skittering stopped. Maybe I got whatever it was anyway and despite all the trouble and stench, mission accomplished, right?
Well, tonight when I sat down to write this I started hearing skittering again.
So when you're feeling dumb, don't feel bad. I can't seem to operate a simple mouse trap.
Scarydad spends most of his time in his garage making things and then writing about it on his blog. He likes chocolate covered bacon, old slasher movies, and throwing leftover food at pedestrians. He dislikes cats, post-Black album Metallica, and hangnails. Follow him on Twitter, Like him on Facebook, and send him emails at email@example.com