Not fluffy or nice, don't read at the same time as eating your tea.

So, the mice. Did you forget? Shall I keep you in on the happenings of mice and men in our house?
Well, we killed them, dead. They kept coming back for the peanut butter coated poison, yum. So I bought RAT traps, never mind fluffy little mouse traps, these things were getting on my nerves, the smell was simply abominable, for months I have been complaining of a musky, rotting sort of half rancid dead small, have spent hours crawling on hands and knees sniffing things, opening cupboards and slamming them shut because the laundry room and the cupboard under the stairs were the culprits, stronger in both those places and so because I couldn't see what was smelling, I shut the door on it and yelled when anyone else opened those doors and left them opened.
When we, I mean I, saw that fat old pappie mouse run into the laundry room, it caused me to search and actually move the rubbermaid boxes I store material in ( because I am so HANDY and one day will have a table and sewing machine and shall sew and make splendid things) and well, there it was a big old chomped through hole in the wall.
When H cleared under the stairs and saw the grandpappie mouse he then found an even bigger chewed through hole in the floorboards.
We caught pappie and grandpappie in the traps, big fat, stinking mice. Deader than dead things.
My greatest surprise was the absolute joy Isaac experienced in this barbaric activity, he was thrilled to see those mice and declared both occasions the very best 60 seconds of his life, he examined and then described the positions and state of both mice and was animated in his descriptions. He helped set the traps and checked them daily. I think he was a little disappointed when they stopped coming.
Seth was more on my side, pleased they were dealt with but would rather not hear the details if you don't mind shut up about it will you shut UP ABOUT THE MICE!
So, as mice were caught, we bagged them and tied the bags, and we threw them in the wheelie bins for the bin men to take away and none of us gave a thought to the fact that this was the very day those bins had been emptied and now there were two weeks until the next bin day.
I say the mice were big and as mice go they were, indeed on the larger side.
They were still mice, little creatures perhaps 6 inches long.
Let me tell you, despite the fact that they were small creatures, wrapped and tied in plastic bags, thrown in the bottom of the wheelie bin and then have had BIG black bags thrown on top, despite all that, OH MY GOODNESS THE SMELL!
I thought the smell was going to do for me, even outside, with the kids down my nose kept getting a whiff and to put anything in the bin took such effort, such taking of deep gulping breaths of fresh air before stealing myself to open the lid and throw it in and slam the lid down and then GAH! GAG!
( I have been accused of being melodramatic in my time, by my mother, I would like to point out that this is not me, being melodramatic, it is the absolute truth.)
I thought the smell was awful and even H, who I have yet to see wrinkle his nose when I shove anything rotten under it and say IS THAT BAD? Smell! Is it OK? Even he found that smell so appalling that he got a super thick black bin bag and he taped that lid down and covered it and taped that stink in. Bless his heart.
So, we have been counting down the days til the bin men come and wouldn't you know it, we've had a bank holiday so that adds an extra day on to it. They are coming tomorrow. Oh the joy in my heart as I imagine those bins being emptied, the smell has been so awful but not nearly as awful as MAGGOTS yes, maggots, from the 2 week old rotting mice corpses, at the bottom of the bin, that have crawled up and over all the other rubbish and somehow even through the black super thick bin bags.
I can't even carry on writing about my horror, my skin crawling, head itching, stomach heaving horror of those teeny tiny creatures of death and filth.
WE have this rather splendid company that drive behind the bin men every week and if you catch them, they will, there and then, power wash your wheelie bins, they will spray and wash and clean and make them all shiny and new. I am sitting by my window tomorrow and I am going to run out and pay them whatever they charge to power wash my bins, both of them. I have an industrial sized bottle of Jeyes Bin disinfectant sitting on the windowsill, as a solitary symbol of hope, I am going to dust pour that stuff in my power washed, rinsed and maggot free bins and I am going to sing a happy song.
Tomorrow is a long awaited day. I was giddy with anticipation.
Until last night when, at exactly the same time, Sophie and I walked out of the rooms we were in and said " Can you hear that?" And yes, we could.
Scratching.
LOUD scratching.
My only hope is that it is under the floor boards and can't get back in as H has fixed and nailed and boarded up all holes.
I am looking at houses to rent, I tell H that I am just looking for old times sake.
Watch me move quicker than blink if I find a house we can afford away from the Clampetts, steep hill and mice.