Yes, this was my reality yesterday and my reaction was that of one right out of a horror movie. I should say I am not easily grossed out. My socially semi-acceptable profession is a massage therapist (my socially acceptable profession is a Realtor…socially as in my father approves) therefore I touch all different kinds of bodies, smell different smells and yes I touch toe jam often. That all being said I think I have a strong stomach. Well, June 24th proved me wrong. I am still wonder woman but mice and rats are just not something I am used to.
Cleaning up someone else’s living quarters is disgusting. Their hair, dander and oddities are everywhere. Why tenant why did you have to leave you fake finger nails embedded in the carpet? Why is there a ketchup packet in the corner on the floor behind the bedroom door? Why so much filth!? Maybe because she has mice living with her or maybe the mice lived with her because of the filth.
Either way, in our new project just a day after our first full time tenant moved out, I head up stairs to address the filth that was left behind for me to address. We started by having Roberta (the roomba) pick up as much shit in the carpet as possible. That girl can go! If you don’t have one, get one. That girl has brought a lot of value to my life by saving me time and frustration from my home full of Homie’s dog hair. Anyways, a few hours of sorting through the gifts that she left behind for me (aka dirty socks, gum stuck to my baseboards, bobby bins, hotdogs and rotten steak in the freezer) I look up and notice one of the unsightly ceiling tiles has shifted in the living room. Truth be told there are several tile pieces that needed to be addressed but this one in particular spoke to me.
How out of allllll the tile piece in that apt did I know I needed to address that one in particular? No clue. Because as I tried to move it back into its little home I spy a black plastic thingy. What kind of thingy you ask?? “I’m not sure sooo offf courssse I have to figure out what…AHHHHHHHH!!!”
I shoot my hand up into my chest and yell at the top of my lungs standing two feet off the ground on my trusty step ladder. After a full exhalation of AH! I hop down and bolt for my husband. I run downstair shaking asking for him “Go up there! Go up there! I can’t!” You see, Tom and his partner fell from the ceiling on one of those glue mouse traps. They were both stretched out as if they had been trying to reach for dear life. Both mouths so wide open I could see their tiny teeth and tongues. Poor Tom. Poor Tom’s partner. How long had those mice been in the ceiling? Now that I think about it I don’t recall a smell. Eww…just writing this gives me the shakes.
The worst part about this is of course now I have to get back on the step ladder, open that tile and with a flashlight make sure there aren’t any more of Tom’s friends in the ceiling.