I am quite sure that I have met the limits of my resolve.

Today, I felt a smidgen better, though my chest and back and throat and head hurt more whenever I cough.

I stopped by the vet on the way into work and got Kashi's new rabies shot certificate so that I could mail in my application for his 2006 license. I also mailed my sister's birthday gift that I found in Italy, sent another gift to her husband (a wee bit late), and mailed a warranty return on a cellular headset. So, before my workday even began, I was quite productive.

Once at work, I spent the day finalizing the update to the company phone lists. I also designed a second PowerPoint template option (a small variation on the first one I did). Finally, I drafted a training PowerPoint presentation for the controller. She was pleased that I had found the time to help her and even genuinely liked the new template design because it fits well with something like her training presentation because the design is a bit understated.

Coughing so badly that three different people told me to leave, I ducked out a bit early and drove home...but not before I packed up some work to take home for the weekend!

When I got home, I chatted with a friend and then changed back into my pajamas and my robe to concentrate on getting better. Once in comfortable clothes, I gathered my nerves and checked the sticky pads I stuck in the basement pantry where the mice seem to be having a field day. They were blessedly empty. With a sigh of relief for not having to deal with mice stuck on those pads, I went to the kitchen to empty the trash.

Eek! Under the sink where I keep the trash bags was a mouse stuck on the pad. I freaked out and nearly threw up! My friend called back and I told her that there was a mouse I had to throw away. Bolstering my courage with her support, I tried to move the pad, but when I got close, the mouse moved its head! I nearly lost it!

Frantic to find someone else to remove the mouse, I tried to call my writing student's father and then my boss (her son was a strong possibility for rescue in my frenetic fantasy). The former was having a dinner party and the latter was not available.

Then...oh, egregiously so...my friend mentioned that someone from her old job was against using sticky pads because sometimes, if just a particular body part was caught, such as a leg or a tail, the mouse would chew it off to escape.

WHY! Tell me, if you know...WHY whould she offer such an image to me? It is a testimony of how much I like her and enjoy her friendship that I managed to surpress my urge to jump in the car and drive the two hours or so to her home so that I could THROTTLE HER. You know, don't you, that I will be dreaming of finding a bloody trail from a sticky pad with a paw left behind to the dead mouse elsewhere?

Well, then I thought I heard another mouse right by the couch. My friend recommended that I put a sticky pad down on the pathway it would take to run away from me if I disturbed it. I did so without thinking and then talked with her some more, trying to make up my mind on whether or not I could deliberately provoke a mouse into getting stuck. When I hung up, I walked to the kitchen for something to drink. Some preverse part of me compelled me to look down...and there already was a mouse on the pad! Still, trying to free itself! A young adult mouse I would venture.

I screamed, cried, called her back and begged her to pick up the phone (she obviously did NOT hear my voice on the machine) and cried some more. I am weak. I am flighty. I am a helpless female. Because...I DO NOT WANT TO DEAL WITH DEAD OR DYING MICE!

After praying for help to calm down, I finally decided that I would use my cleaning towels to remove the mice and pads. I dropped a towel over the sticky pad (smothering the screams of the second mouse) and then used my back scratcher to poke the towel agaist the sticky surface not already covered by the mouse. Finally, I used some tongs to pick up the towel/mouse/pad and dump them in a waiting trash bag. Repeating the process allowed me to also successfully remove the mouse from under the sink.

It was only then that my writing student's father called. I asked him if he would have come to my rescue and he hesitated over the answer! At that point, I told him that there was only one answer: "Of course I would!" He chuckled, suggested that I try newspaper next time as a means of saving towels, and bravely noted that he would be home for the rest of the weekend.

I am exhausted...still coughing...and SICK OF MICE!