This weekend went by far too quickly:
Saturday I slept in (oh glorious morning) and wandered out into the living room, cuddled under Justin’s USMC blanket that he sent me before he deployed and watching movies with mom all day while knitting the sweater.
Saturday night I spent up talking with people and watching another movie in my bed. As soon as I turned off the TV, lights and my computer, I heard…
*scratch scratch stratch scratch… CHOMP. Scratch scratch scratch scratch*
I turned on my bedside light thinking the cat was licking on something since it sounded a bit like his rough tongue on the heat register (he eats the fuzz and dust that accumulates there… don’t ask) but no cat was found. I then heard it again- at eye level. It dawned on me that this sound was coming from inside the wall. I flipped, knowing it was probably nothing, yet I still couldn’t stay in my room knowing something was BURROWING into my wall and could possibly come crawling out, flop onto my floor, burrow into my blankets and start gnawing on my feet at any moment.
The couch made for a very comfy bed Saturday night, though I could still hear the chomping of this critter while in the living room. I assumed it had already assimilated itself onto my baseboards and was making its way into my room to take over. There was enough crap on the floor that it wouldn’t take long for it to get lost in the clothes only for me to find it scurrying out some day and scare the shit out of me.
I woke up Sunday morning, freezing, and padded into Mom’s room. “There’s something in my room,” I told her. I felt like I was six, claiming there was something under my bed. “Well, maybe we should do some serious cleaning in your room, the noise might scare it away.” I agreed to find mom’s face light up.
Let’s make this clear: I don’t really ever dust. I clean up the clothes and overly excessive clutter in my room when I can’t stand it anymore. I agreed with mom knowing that I didn’t really want this monster making its way into my unmentionables and getting away with stuff. So we set to cleaning my room. We started at 9:30 a.m.
By noon we were all but done- there was just sorting, filing and my bed to make. I prayed I’d be able to sleep in my bed that night.
So I showered, went shopping, had dinner with mom then went to Stitch n Bitch. I got some more work on the sweater. I realized while there that this sweater was really not dimensionally correct, let alone that when this sweater is done, it won’t fit- it’s too small. I’ll either graft another piece for the sides or I’ll wait until it fits. I haven’t decided. Either way, this sweater would be a belly sweater if I actually stopped knitting at 11.5 inches, which is what the directions say for size large.
Now, I know I have a relatively long torso, but I didn’t think I’d almost have to double the length of the sweater. I like my sweaters to reach just below my hips- not rest on my hips to where I’ll have to yank it down every five seconds so I put the piece up to my body and found that 10 inches reaches from below my hips to my waist, nowhere near where the decreases for my underarms should be. I was frustrated, to say the least. I’ll keep going until I feel comfortable with the length and measure it for the front. Maybe by the time I finish with the sweater, I’ll have shrunk enough that it’ll fit perfectly. I’d hate to have to create grafts. That would just bug me. I’m also hoping blocking will make it bigger.
I’d show you a picture but it looks exactly the same as previous pictures.
Back to the original story: Sunday night I went to bed at a decent hour but heard an annoying sound again after about a half-hour of lying in bed.
*scratch scratch scratch, CHOMP, scratch of nails on wood as walking, scratch scratch scratch*
And it was louder this time. I also heard a squeak. I knew for certain what was in my walls:
A FRACKING MOUSE.
I slept on the couch again.
I thought I may have heard it tip toeing around above the living room ceiling while I was in there but blamed it on my brain playing tricks on me. I told mom that morning when I woke up (after 4 hours of sleep, 15 minutes on the phone with Justin at 4 a.m., then another 1.5 hours of sleep) and she said she went into my room in the middle of the night and didn’t hear anything.
I am not going crazy. We’re telling the landlord tomorrow in any case. How a mouse got into our attic/into the drywall space between our kitchen and my room is unknown. Also unknown is how the little bastard hadn’t run away when we were banging the vacuum cleaner against the walls for 3 hours.
In any case, it will either die on its own and I’ll forever be relocating to the living room whenever I hear it gnawing on my wall, or some mouse killer will be installed in the attic. I’m kind to the worlds creatures- just not when they’re harassing me at night, scaring the crap out of me.