I spent most of this past summer upgrading my kitchen. It was a labor of love ... and money. Lots of it. Not that I begrudge the outflow of cash; it needed to be done and, frankly, the room deserved the attention. It has played host to many a holiday meal and gathering, and sucked up (literally) a myriad of spills, oven disasters, even the horrid pungency of microwave-burnt popcorn that I'm pretty sure was the latest form of torture adopted at Guantanamo Bay.
So you can understand how aggrieved I felt when I detected evidence of the pitter patter of little rodent feet on my spanking clean counter tops. I mean, how rude! Don't these creatures realize how much research and shopping time went into the selection of those solid surfaces? And how dare they infiltrate my custom-built pantry, with its pristine shelves and varnished edge work? Did they really think their midnight romps through my galley would go unnoticed and ignored?
Towards the end, they became very blatant in their intrusiveness. My son reported daytime sightings of scampering paws and flying tails doing 60 mph into the dining room closet to get at the unchosen Butterfingers from last Halloween. It was then that I realized they were mocking my appeasement strategy, and I would have to get tough or be bested by vermin weighing less than an ounce and boasting the intelligence of a spatula.
I took myself over to Ace Hardware and invested in warfare equipment. I caulked up whatever holes I could find in our not-so-impenetrable fortress and put out some bait that I expect gave the critters a rude awakening (well, actually the opposite). In short, I took the measures - arguably cruel, but in my mind necessary - that seem to have solved the problem. For now.
This is an important distinction. I hold no illusions that these steps are a permanent fix. I've been unpleasantly surprised too many times before to let these trespassers hoodwink me now. What I do put stock in, though, is that what has worked in the past will continue to work in the future.
Just as diminutive beasts at times invade my physical dwelling, tiny chinks periodically make their way into my spiritual armor. My helmet of salvation slips back, leaving my mind and vision vulnerable to Satan's temptations. I forget to don the breastplate of righteousness and take up the shield of faith, rendering me heartless and gutless when the battle intensifies. My belt of truth and sandals of peace unbuckle, causing me humiliation and immobility. Worst of all, probably, I leave my sword at home; I am thus unable to fight back against Satan's assault weapons, which he invariably selects with great care to target my most disadvantaged parts. In short, my game is perilously off, and I'm an arrow away from annihilation.
The tools, though, are at my disposal. I need only to utilize them. And the best part is, I don't even have to go to the hardware store.
So you can understand how aggrieved I felt when I detected evidence of the pitter patter of little rodent feet on my spanking clean counter tops. I mean, how rude! Don't these creatures realize how much research and shopping time went into the selection of those solid surfaces? And how dare they infiltrate my custom-built pantry, with its pristine shelves and varnished edge work? Did they really think their midnight romps through my galley would go unnoticed and ignored?Towards the end, they became very blatant in their intrusiveness. My son reported daytime sightings of scampering paws and flying tails doing 60 mph into the dining room closet to get at the unchosen Butterfingers from last Halloween. It was then that I realized they were mocking my appeasement strategy, and I would have to get tough or be bested by vermin weighing less than an ounce and boasting the intelligence of a spatula.
I took myself over to Ace Hardware and invested in warfare equipment. I caulked up whatever holes I could find in our not-so-impenetrable fortress and put out some bait that I expect gave the critters a rude awakening (well, actually the opposite). In short, I took the measures - arguably cruel, but in my mind necessary - that seem to have solved the problem. For now.
This is an important distinction. I hold no illusions that these steps are a permanent fix. I've been unpleasantly surprised too many times before to let these trespassers hoodwink me now. What I do put stock in, though, is that what has worked in the past will continue to work in the future.
The tools, though, are at my disposal. I need only to utilize them. And the best part is, I don't even have to go to the hardware store.
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