Time for a cat

If you're just tuning in and you missed all the mouse drama from a few months ago, allow me to recap. We rented our house out for 4 years while we were living in Hong Kong. Upon returning home, we were greeted by a revolting scene. Mouse poop in ever crack, crevice, and shelf in the kitchen. We practically had to wade through the mouse poop and dead mice under all the cabinets and appliances. In a moment of desperation the NIGHT BEFORE the movers were arriving with all of our stuff, we ripped out the entire rodent infested kitchen with much screaming, cursing, and hiding of our noses and mouths under our shirts.

Fast forward to today. Our kitchen is gleaming. I am a vigilante when it comes to crumbs in the house. I leave no crevice unturned in my OCD cleaning. You see, I have a fear. What if I open a cabinet and *gasp* hear scurrying. If it happened once, it could happen again. Right? But it ain't happening. Oh no. We've seen no bugs. No droppings. No "activity." Until today.

The exterminator came for his routine check-up, and I proudly announced that we haven't seen a thing. Everything must be critter free. "Well, mice are REALLY bad on this street," he assures me.

Up he comes from the basement with a bag. A bag with a mouse. A MOUSE. In my HOUSE. My gleaming, crumb-free safe zone. He did offer me some encouragement in the form of, "Well, he did look like he'd been there a while....maybe a month. And it was just in the basement. You'll KNOW if there's one upstairs. Just call me if you need me." He's going on speed-dial ASAP.