Mice
A few months ago, my household was blessed with the arrival of a new baby. I am of course using the word “blessed” in the loosest possible sense. In any event, my roommate’s “sister who isn’t his sister” (I have no idea) recently gave birth, and apparently decided that this event merited moving into my apartment four days a week. This then resulted in her “mother who isn’t really her mother” (still don’t know) telling her that if she was going to be gone so much, she could just stay gone, which she then promptly did. Or at least, from a certain perspective she did. From the vantage point of an irritable tall man, it would seem that she was instead staying put. After spending a further month helping my living room live up to its’ name, she and the baby finally managed to acquire lodging somewhere that wasn’t my apartment. Fortunately for all, her new home is fairly near my apartment, so she and the baby still come by every day to hang out, watch TV, and generally bathe in my sink.
I like to think of myself as a rather kind-hearted person, one who is generous enough in spirit to boldly declare that a single mother living on the street is a bad thing. I’d even go so far as to say I’m firmly in favor of offering someone assistance in their hour of need. However, I’m also a terrible human being, and firmly against babies being within shrieking distance of me. Lately I’ve been having some difficulty trying to reconcile these dual tendencies towards altruism and misanthropy. And when you come home every day to be freshly reminded of the fact that constant jet traffic from LaGuardia is not the single most bothersome sound you could have in your home, it’s easy for misanthropy to gain favor.
On a more positive note, the arrival of the baby came with the arrival of an unaffiliated transient cat. Unfortunately, this cat has also brought an as yet undetermined quantity of freeloading mice to our attention. He has caught two so far, and his continued infatuation with the scurrying sounds from the radiator suggests that there are more to come.
So I’ve decided to do what any reasonable person would do: I’m going to buy the baby a pair of Mickey ears and give it Pavlovian cookie every time it squeaks. Hopefully we’ll get at least one problem solved.
-TC