Eek! A Mouse!

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No, not the band, the real thing. I got out of dinner with a friend last night, turned my phone back on, and was greeted with a distraught voicemail from my roommate that she'd just seen a mouse run into our kitchen. There was utter, chaotic panic in her voice. I called her back, and assured her I would get mousetraps on my way home. This morning, the traps were still empty - I'm assuming the little fella has a hole someplace and presumably ran back in when those two housemates saw each other and one of them screeched - but I'm finding myself a little sad at the prospect of killing him. Granted, I haven't seen him myself, just his little mouse-remnants, and I'm not even sure where one would release a mouse in the city. I'm not sure it's allowed, not sure how frowned upon mouse-entrapment might be without proper places to release them. So, instead, part of me hopes the little guy evacuates and just steers clear of our apartment altogether, rendering the traps wasted, yes, but salvaging his own little life. I guess only time will tell.

Adding awkwardness to the fact that there are now mousetraps in two corners of my kitchen and one in my dining nook? My family is coming to visit this weekend. And, if things continue in this vein, they will see said mousetraps, empty, and waiting. "Welcome to New York City! Everything you've heard about infestations and rodents is true! And your daughter is living amongst it! Yippee!"