Hurrah! First dead mouse.
I know, not the thing you expect to hear of a Monday morning but it is a bit of a relief. Finally. They’ve been chewing on that bait for days now and there didn’t seem to be any signs of activity getting less.
Yesterday Ian and I spent quite a while hoovering, disinfecting, checking and prodding various nooks and cupboards and kept on finding more and more mouse leavings. It turns out the Littles is eagle-eyed and is an excellent Mouse Poo spotter. Particularly enjoys yelling out ‘MOUSE POO!’ in decibels sufficient to overcome the roar of the Dyson busy sucking up said debris. Sounds like Frau Farbissina from Austin Powers. We took down the bookcases in the study and sure enough underneath one of them there was a mouse nest. Thankfully no mouse of any description inside it. Turns out it’s a very girly mouse: seems to have chosen red and pink ribbon as favourite building material, with shredded paper as a back-up.
Despite all of this, they were still in action last night and we still had visions of the Dick Whittington scenario where mice run all over his bed at night so he has to get a cat. (The Mr didn’t seem too put off by the theory but even he realises that at the moment this isn’t a viable option). So, dead mouse in the garage of a Monday morning is one of the best ways I could think of to start the week.
We went to see this house on Sunday morning. Very nice, and two doors up from Lillian’s but overpriced. Not that there was a price actually on it (they were trying to sound out the market surreptitiously) but they were thinking of between 700-750 for it. We said it won’t go for anything over 700 when they asked us our opinion. However, it seems that since then someone has put a bid in already – don’t know what it was for but Anna says “close to what they were asking for.” Blimey.
In the meantime, we’re seriously re-considering this one. I think I’ll make another appointment to see it today. We need to start getting money over in a serious way. It’s awful to finally have to bite the bullet and say goodbye to all those exchange rate losses, however one must think of the rent one won’t have to pay.
There was also, of course, Lillian’s party in the afternoon so that took care of quite a bit of the day. They had great fun and, being designated the photographer, I took over 300 pictures so there should be a few coming in a while.
Meanwhile Lara’s voice ticks are driving me absolutely crazy. The variety and continual application are mind-blowing. The Mr tells me to chill but he goes bananas too when she grinds her teeth, it just depends what sets you off. The last straw was when she started constantly running her fingers along her lips to make a brr brr sound, like the archetypal village idiot in a cartoon. Won’t stop. She is now banned from eating with us and I ignore everything she says if it’s said with an unnecessary addendum, is squeaked, growled, yelled, whispered, directed to the other side of the room, or generally misdelivered. I think we won’t be communicating for a while. Luckily I think she knows she’s finally pushed it too far and this morning she was trying to be good. All this hassle and nonsense for absolutely no reason. Ours not to reason why. Ours merely to be consigned to a mental asylum in the next couple of years. Two months of this and your hair starts to fall out.