Since we moved out here to the middle-of-nowhere to avoid expensive city-rent, we’ve encountered some things we weren’t expecting.

Like the orange water. Country water out here is H-A-R-D. So we bought a water softener.

Like the moldy walls. The trees here are old and dense. And we live in a valley. Near a creek. Lots of moisture, only a few hours of direct sunlight. After spraying much bleach and throwing out many stuffed animals, we bought a dehumidifier.

Like the lack of modern conveniences, mainly, a dishwasher. But that’s remedied, too, now.

Like the lack of cell phone reception.  (Yes, family, this is why I don’t call.  I still love you.)

And, most recently, like the mice. I’ve had moth problems before, so I was already storing grains either in bug-proof containers, or the freezer, so it took awhile for them to make themselves known.

But they’re known now.

And we don’t tread lightly when our Nestle chocolate is being attacked.

Our first attempt:

I don’t have a picture of the result the next morning. And not because there was a mouse corpse involved. Our sneaky little rodents made off with the chocolate and then Josh had to test the trap to see if it was faulty. It wasn’t.

So the next day, after some advice from a friend, we tried again with a slightly different tactic:

It was ridiculously hard to stare at a peanut-butter-covered-milk-chocolate-chip all day, knowing I couldn’t touch it for fear of breaking a finger. Ridiculously hard.

And apparently the mice couldn’t resist the temptation either. Two nights in a row we set that same bait and two nights in a row, we caught out bandits.

But it stopped after two, so either we are officially out of mice, we are officially out of chocoholic mice, or we are officially out of dumb mice.

(I tell myself it’s the first one.)

Yay, country life!