Adventures and Advice

EVERYONE HAS A STORY TO TELL. SOME GET AROUND TO IT IN MIDLIFE; OTHERS WAIT ‘TIL THEY ARE SURPRISED TO BE AROUND TO TELL A STORY OR TO RUMINATE ON THEIR LIVES…OR BOTH. HERE’S ONE STORY I LOVE TO TELL: THE MOUSE There is a difference between living life with another person and living life well with someone, in this case, my wife. Take the home for example. Those of us who reside in a building with walls and a roof, running water, perhaps a bit of carpet and surely some curtains and tile floor…well we have opportunities to see things…perhaps a chair out of place or a dust ball brushing up against a shoe carelessly left to itself…perhaps a piece of bread carrying peanut butter. Occasionally a bug may show up, crawling slowly, and aimlessly, around the leg of a table. It is seen and dealt with. These items and more, a sticky handprint, a licked spoon, a glut of milk that flows from container to mouth…these things are seen…and they are, all of them, to be remedied immediately. Seeing is believing and believe me, my wife sees everything. It took me a few years to recognize that her sense of tidiness is probably a 9 and mine a 3. She isn’t maniacal about it, just methodical. And, she has sharp eyes. One of my great achievements in the early years of our marriage was spilling an entire cup of coffee on to the carpet next to my easy chair. Alarmed, I used most of a paper roll to mop what I could, then shifted the chair so it covered the spot. I privately rejoiced about that for several years, and after we had the carpet replaced, for reasons of old age I guess, I revealed my skill in dealing with spilled coffee. She grimaced, but the deed was done, and I felt good about it. I have written previously about the snake in the house, winding its way through the carpet toward who knows where. I too reacted with shouts and panic before rescuing the day and removing the snake. I got a lot of credit for that, and even today, I draw upon my heroism to puff myself up in her eyes. But there is another animal nuisance, thankfully outside, which continues to draw her attention…and thus mine. We have had for several years, a small mouse who likes to inspect the entryway to the home. To my knowledge there is no food about, no scraps, no bait, no lure. I’m confident that this mouse is replaced from time to time with the next generation of its kind, but each finds our porch a nice place to inspect. It leaves droppings and they can be seen, and this is not acceptable to my wife. She cajoles, then repeats, then exclaims that “we” need to do something about this mouse. I respond. I set out bait traps, click traps, poisoned traps and mouse traps. I catch nothing. With some sense of desperation, I take up reading about “home remedies” for catching mice. One which seems particularly attractive is the suggestion that one place a plate of tomato and turkey slices near the mice run, smear mayonnaise over the tomatoes, and pepper them intensely. According to this folk-medicine, the mouse will search through the mayo looking for the turkey, lick the tomato and take away pepper poisoning. That sounded like a colorful strategy, and I know how to slice a tomato. I prepared an attractive plate, hoping the arrangement would catch the mouse’s eye, and set it out three nights in a row. I catch nothing, but the mouse seemed to find better scraps somewhere else, and I took credit for it. Maybe the pepper poisoned him. Settling then into the easy life of doing nothing in particular, I began to write…about life, about friends, about murder and more recently about making a movie. And yet…there are things that need my attention. Only yesterday, my wife made mention of a shopping list for Costco and another one for Albertsons, reminded me to close the garage door at night, commented that it was “Blue Can” night for recycling, suggested that I water the trees which seem to be dying in the heat, asked if I knew where to go to reach my dermatologist and then concluded her inquiry with the throw-away line…”And by the way…the mouse is back.”