My landlady and my downstairs neighbors have been hearing this scrabbling noise in the walls. Being understandably creeped out by this, they called in pest control.
And so, a gentleman bearing the implements of rodent control came up into my apartment. The only man to see the place since the LYM decided that he needed to be away from me. In fact, the disasterous and mortifying state of my place has been my excuse to not bring any men home of late. And while I was mortified, Mr. Pest Control assured me that in his work, he has seen it all.
He walked around with a flashlight looking for holes, for signs, for droppings. And when he looked in my closet, jackpot.
When I first moved to Brooklyn, my parents had driven out bearing gifts of ramen, canned goods and two bags of rice. One regular white rice, which I kept out in the kitchen area. The other a bag of sweet Thai rice, which I kept in the closet undisturbed and forgotten. I basically opened an all you can eat sweet rice buffet in my closet and the mice came to partake. How could they not.
Despite this smoking gun, Mr. PC went through the rest of the rooms in an effort to identify all means of entry.
He walked into another room and saw a sign that I had taped up from last year that said: "Yoga twice a week."
"Does that help?" he asked.
"It's great," I replied, "although I haven't been to yoga in a very long time."
He asked if going to yoga would be my New Year's resolution for next year. I replied that my resolution for next year is: To love my life.
He grinned and said that that was his resolution for 2008. I asked him how that went and he said that he was going to make it his resolution for 2009 as well, along with being less picky.
Which also sounds like a good resolution to make.
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