I don’t have a problem with mice. I think they’re cute, actually. I just don’t want to live with them. I don’t want to share my food, or find their poop in my house.

A while ago Klane saw a mouse dash across the floor, but we hadn’t seen or heard anything since then. Tonight I made cookies, and when I opened the drawer below the oven for a baking sheet, I found mouse droppings. On my baking sheet. No, no. Not okay. Right now we’re listening to this noisy, incessant squeaking noise which we can’t localize but which seems to be coming from behind the fridge… or maybe it’s under the sink… or in the walls. I didn’t know mice actually squeaked, repeatedly, for no reason at all. Apparently they do. There is a mouse-squeakin party going on in our walls.

We’re going to buy traps.