Daniela Ginta, Freelance Writer

Gratitude makes the journey better and so does kindness

Tag: old house

A Farewell To Mice (Yeah, You…)

By

On December 16, 2014

In Kamloops, Life Stories, Social issues

The two of you that ran across the living room and entrance hallway this morning may have had a point. That the place will be yours again soon. Which is why I didn’t bother look twice. So it’s true. You win.

We felt victorious for those three days or so of decimating (have we though?) your troops a while ago, but I had this nagging thought at the back of my mind that though it was hard to get ten mice in a couple of days, it was a bit too easy after all. I was right.

You laid quiet for a few days. We put away all food overnight, every night, save for a piece of mozzarella I left on the counter – on purpose! – and you did not touch it. Nice refraining from what nature tells you to do. I know, your beady eyes (and no, I do not want to know how many) were focused on the larger goal, and that was to make us believe that you are not here anymore. It almost worked. Almost.

I heard you a couple of nights ago and blamed the heat gushing out the vents and ruffling the Christmas play announcements stuck to the fridge. Deep down I knew it was you and I had a feeling it would come to this. You are not the only ones relying on that sixth sense, just so you know.

I appreciate the decency in not touching our food anymore, I do. The raucous group that we ousted a while ago created some damages in the food department and that is just not right. I know, nature calls and such, but come on… We did not take revenge on them though, just so you know, it was simply too much to take even for the kindhearted. Your teeth marks are simply atrocious to discover around the house.

As for cuteness, my husband puts it bluntly: Just don’t look at them up close, there is nothing cute about that. He knows, he got to see a few while dutifully removing them from the premises once the snap happened. Snap! Oh, sorry, did the word evoke some bad memories? Welcome to the club then, I too have been touched by the mighty sound. Even the accidental ones get my heart rate up now. Yours too? There you are, we are united by an interspecies bridge that will cease to exist once we leave the house.

It’ll be soon, no need to worry. You probably do not worry, based on your confident trotting through the house in early morning. For mice, I have to give it to you, you have guts. A cat would appreciate that even more; literally. Just thank your lucky stars that due to my son’s allergy you are not about to see a feline anytime soon.

So you win. We tried, we sure did, but you prevailed.

By the way, the space behind and underneath the stove is all clean now; enjoy! Same for the space behind the fridge, though we noticed you don’t use that one much. A spare perhaps, for guests popping in? Maybe we ousted a few during the days of multiple trapping. Apologies. City mouse should’ve instructed country mouse about the perils of the human abodes.

Oh yes, laugh about the human abodes all you want. I know there’s been no decent bathroom in the last month here, no laundry either, and the furnace broke down just as we are about to vacate. Human troubles, not that you care. The modem cable seemed to have some issues lately too… Wait a second… You didn’t, did you? That’d be low, too low, even for a mouse. Revenge is the weapon of the fool, I was raised with that belief. Don’t go that way.

While we’re at life lessons, you may want to take a look at the charming “The tailor of Gloucester” by Beatrix Potter. Nifty little tricks those mice pulled. They proved to be helpful and nice to the guy who lived there. Correction: to the guy in whose house they lived. Don’t roll your eyes, there is no debate. It’s humans who build the homes, you just move in. So there. You’re simply profiting, admit it. Hey, I am not judging, you’re the ones who have to live with it. I am pointing out that your British relatives seemed to have agreed to help in exchange for rooming. Feeling inspired?

Anyway, the tailor’s story… you may want to take a peek and learn a thing or two. There was no mentioning of droppings anywhere by the way, and that’s a fact. European elegance, what can I say. Oh, and the manners; exquisite. Go read for yourself. No, we won’t leave the book behind, go find your own. Try vintage, it tastes better than the new stuff. But what do I know…

So farewell, fellow mice, it’s been interesting. We’re done trapping you. For the few days we have left here, walk in peace and remember to pay it forward. As a sign of respect, if you can keep the scampering to a bare minimum (portable potty is outside by the way, not that you care) we would greatly appreciate it. It makes for better mornings when the house is an untoasty 15.

Oh, in the interest of fairness, you should know that I know that you stole a few of the chocolate wafers the boys love so much. I found them behind the stove, half eaten with those atrocious teeny teeth marks on. If I were you I’d watch my diet a wee bit more. All those treats add to the waist and guess who will not make it through the hole when they need to?

You’re welcome. We won’t miss you!

PS: For your information, it is true what Roald Dahl mentions in “Matilda” about the heartbeats. Your ticker goes about 670 or so per minute. Impressive, but don’t let it get to your head. You have a small bladder, nothing to brag about. I know, I know, the joke’s on us ‘cuz you peed all over the house because of that. Which is why I do not feel sorry for the tail that belonged to that first mouse we caught, the tail my husband accidentally removed part of during a man-to-beast scuffle; and no, you cannot have it, it’s been long thrown into the garbage. He did not mean to inflict any suffering, by the way, it was just the imbalance of forces…

Letters From The Old House

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On December 9, 2014

In Environment, Kamloops, Life Stories

WhiteFive days ago… It is snowing softly and the river is carrying ice floaties towards Kamloops Lake like a train that never ends. It’s peaceful. On a day like this I’d be thinking cross-country skiing and boys tumbling down slopes full of wild, dry grass dressed in thick fresh snow.

This morning I am secretly rejoicing that the lack-of-toilet pee spots in the front yard by the pee-tree will be covered by fresh snow.

It’ll be a while until the toilet will be fixed it seems. Think it absurd, I do too. Uncertainty is never good, yet when you have to pick after kids just like you do after puppies it becomes personal. Yes, a pun, what better time to throw one out.

We’ve been running to coffee shops for a few days now, and continue to be grateful for every flushing toilet. A miracle of technology. Chuckle if you want to; I know it doesn’t compare to the shuttle that was sent around the world early this morning, but trust me, a running toilet makes things alright.

On the mouse front, there seems to be none left on the premises.

Three days ago… I found the 11th mouse in a milk bottle at the bottom of seldom used cupboard. Mummified; the smell gave it away. Faint enough to mislead, unless you put your face in (nose included) looking for a jar. I did. A tough, cruel death by all means, inflicted by its own curious murine nature.

You may be now wondering about the tenth mouse, since we only had nine at the last blog count. He got caught in one of the traps our kitchen is laced with at the moment (it was a quiet subdued celebration, and a few shudders thinking some may still be around). Which brings us to a second question from you: do any of us ever get caught? Well, I almost did once while sweeping. The noise is enough to make one jump; every time.

As for the mummified mouse, the discovery can take your mind off lacking toilets for a bit. Until the smell clears away to make room for others issues at hand. We’re still showering in the go, ditto for laundry and pray that the toilet will not back up unexpectedly. Talk about the straw that breaks the camel’s back… It’s a tired, old camel, let’s just leave it at that.

We have decided to move. No more views of the river and the trees hemming its shores, projecting slim silhouettes in the water; no more guessing the weather based on the shade of the water or the way clouds arch over mountains, no more nighttime gentle blinking all the way into the distance and for me, no more wondering about a lone soft light in the middle of nowhere near the grasslands… an isolated cottage, who knows. The small mysteries we carry with; the answers are not as important as the mysteries itself – but that is the story of another day.

No crying over spilled milk, or moving in this case. We will still have a view and we will discover its mysteries and beauty. The very bright side of it is, of course, a flushing toilet and no setting off mouse any traps on the way to it in the middle of the night. Clouds and trees can be found anywhere, rainbows too, if only we find the time to look.

An old plumber named Bud came by this afternoon and spent a commendable amount of time in the basement. He surfaced with a long face. He left, like many before him, disillusioned, and we almost felt like consoling him. I also admit to feeling slightly envious thinking Bud will go home to a flushing toilet, shower and laundry. We did too, except that they all belonged to friends. Gratefulness reinvented.

One day ago…  A fresh team of plumbers paid us a visit. They came hopeful, they left disillusioned. Again. I knew that would happen. They tried and tried, they brought machines and cameras and skills. They took them with when they left, handing over an invoice and the farewell we have become accustomed to – ‘we are so sorry’. We are too, possibly seasoned by many days of dashing for toilets and making fun of the absurdity of it all, which makes people feel even sorrier for us. The silver lining? Knowing half the plumbers in town. Just ask.

Mice count is still at 11; traps are still set.

Today. After perusing over a few unreliable models, we have capture: A nice portable toilet is parked by the side of the house, welcoming weary inhabitants in its plastic arms. The boys find it funny, we all find it useful and, I am sure, the neighbours find it intriguing.

We are learning the meaning of those simple things we cannot do without, or we could, but with added effort. Like toilets.

We will start packing soon for our impending move and that will be good, as long as no mice jump in the boxes. They are amazing athletes; but you already knew that.

 ***

TodayToday was a balmy day in Kamloops, so unexpectedly balmy at almost two digits over zero that toilet and jumpy rodents worries faded away to make room for the uncomfortable question: is this because of climate change? If not, it may just be an occasional and fascinating Chinook; yet if it is due to climate change… no amount of plumbing can fix that…

I am hoping it’s the Chinook and the cold will return.

Rain draped over faraway hills and it dripped onto our front steps, and muck prevailed. There was a short-lived rainbow arched over the north shore and I was reminded of simple beauty. Of the world that we have and we have to hold onto. Of how short-lived everything is, worries and all, and how, at the end of the day, toilet or not, is what you make of it.

There will always be a bigger worry casting shadows over today, it’s part of the package. Often times we look back and we say ‘Give me mice and plugged drain pipes over this, any day…’ because we are, every now and then, humbled by the weight of life, by the way it takes bites out of us. It always does, and that’s what make it worthwhile; learning to cope, learning to hope, learning to say ‘It will be OK, it has to…’

At the end of the day, it’s what you make of it. It really is…

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