Bebemoche Becomes Cold-Blooded Mouse Killer

I had not told you all about my new furry friends because I hoped that they would go away after I stuffed steel wool into every crevace in my apartment. No such luck. I feel like Juliette Binoche in the film Bleu, expect for Juliette only came across the mice once and then enlisted the neighbor's cat. I, on the other hand, am now armed with Good Houskeeping approved mousetraps, the sort that cover the trap and dead mouse in a black plastic box. That is, until one must empty the dead mice.

My traps are running at full capacity since Sunday. I've decided that throwing dead mice out is a better evening rather than morning activity. On my return home from work I empty the dead mice into flimsy plastic used grocery bags and dump them in the trash chute; there's nothing like a dignified death.