Jesus fucking hates me this month

19 Sep

When I was little – 5 or 6 – I got small rubber snakes to throw on my mom while she was asleep. I’d seen her wince a couple of times, and look away from the television when the image of a snake came on. My dad said she had a ‘phobia’ of snakes; that they really frightened her. So I got rubber ones, put them on her chest while she napped, and then called out her name, to wake her up.

When she saw them, she screeched, waving her arms 3 or 4 times, then jumped up and away from the bed. I laughed for a while, until my father came into the room and realized what had happened. I think they spanked me a little, and then explained how frightened my mother was of them, and how cruel what I’d done was. I got the picture and never pulled a similar prank – though I did always love catching her reaction when she caught sight of snakes.

A year or two later, I stood in the living room, chatting on the phone with an aunt who lived in the United States (little Ju here was still living in the motherland). While mid-sentence, I saw a mouse run from a corner of the living room, over my right foot,  to the other end of the room, underneath a piece of furniture. I freaked the fuck out. I screamed, and jumped up and down, waving my little arms, dropping the receiver and hanging up on my aunt. My mother ran to the living room, and I told her a mouse had run over my foot and was now hiding in the room. She told me to calm down and assured me my father would get rid of it. I went to bed imagining mice would take over my bedroom while I slept, running over my legs and hair. A few months later, my dog would chase, catch, and mutilate a massive motherfucking rat she found in our backyard. I watched her do it, and saw the vile fucking creature being shaken as she bit into its hind legs. I screamed, half in support of her bravery, half in horror. I was disgusted and extremely proud.

I can’t remember when it started exactly, but I developed a real phobia of mice. Walking through Boston’s Back Bay alleys is a no-no for me; there are mice running from one dumpster to another, crossing the street ahead of and behind you. I did it once, and saw seven of the revolting motherfuckers; I ran to the end of the street and then started crying. I was with friends, and extremely embarrassed as we were all just walking to a club, but my knees started shaking and I was sobbing.

Dressed in PJs, I was watching TV in the living room of the first apartment I had, by myself,  when I saw a mouse come into the living room, slowly, along the wall. I screamed, put on my flipflops, grabbed my keys, cell phone, and dog, and ran to my car. I called my father, crying, who told me to grow up and go back home. I then called my best friend, crying, and begged him to let me sleep over. The next day I went back home, cleaned the place, set up mousetraps, and mostly hung out only in the bedroom with the door closed. My landlord initially suggested I use some poison pellets, but they didn’t solve the problem. The traps kept trapping more fuckers, and I found droppings in the kitchen every day. Eventually I threatened to file a report against him with the Dept. of Public Health, and also refused to pay rent until he had a proper job done by exterminators, which he did. It took a month and many nightmares of mice with severed spines, but I did it. I never saw another fucker for as long as I lived there.

I had mice again in my second apartment. I had just returned home with my best friend, and was about to heat up a sandwich in the toaster, when the little fucker ran from underneath the toaster oven, inches from my hand, jumped to the floor and hid under the fridge. Once again, I freaked the FUCK OUT. I started crying and ran to the bedroom. My friend told me to calm down, but I started getting hysteric. Then he got pissed at me and told me to grow up and stop crying. I cried more. Then I was hyperventilating and had trouble speaking. That made me cry harder because I realized I wasn’t in control of myself. My neck felt tight. My friend got worried and drove me to the hospital. I was still crying, hyperventilating and now my tongue and jaw stiffened. It was hard to breathe. At the emergency room, I’d get my breathing in check for a few seconds, then the crying would resume, which made it difficult to breathe, and the whole fucking thing started over. Eventually my friend got in my face, and coached me through each breath. I followed his lead for a few minutes and then began breathing normally on my own. I stopped crying. I felt normal again – exhausted – but normal. We drove home. All because of my pathetic, senseless, irrational fear and disgust of fucking mice.

This afternoon I was greeted by Tori as I came into the apartment with grocery bags. I put them down to the right of the door, and took a step left, toward the bathroom. There was a dead mouse on the floor. Tori went to it, sniffed it, then came back to me, wagging her tail.

My knees almost gave and I’m pretty sure I started whimpering. I grabbed a plastic bag to serve as a glove and another for disposal, walked toward the thing, bent my knees and closed my eyes, letting my hand find the body. I shoved it in the plastic bag, wrapped it, and threw it out my door. Then I cried a little. Before bringing the bag to the dumpster in the parking lot, I decided to ask a neighbor if she’d ever seen mice at her place.

“Oh yeah. My roommate actually owns our unit and when we first saw it we thought it was because of dog food, so we got it off the floor, but that wasn’t it, cause they came back. She had the place exterminated but all they did was bring some stupid traps and some poison. But then the other day, I was going through a drawer in her room – just a drawer, there wasn’t even any food – and I saw one in there.”

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8 Responses to “Jesus fucking hates me this month”

  1. Barbara September 19, 2010 at 18:53 #

    My boyfriend is like you, but with snakes. He freaks out if he even sees one on TV.

    I’d set some traps around the house because generally one mouse means others will follow. I hope I didn’t freak you out even more. 😦

  2. Rebel mel September 19, 2010 at 19:41 #

    Ugh. I can relate. You need a cat! Since having a cat I have not seen a mouse. Well this one time HE found one and somehow slam dunked it into the toilet. I shit you not. Flushed the fucker alive. But since then, I have not seen another.

  3. Mrs. Apron September 20, 2010 at 06:06 #

    In our first shared domicile, a little twin house, we had mice. We lived there for one year, during which it was a constant battle with the landlord, glue traps, snap traps, poison pellets, hiding food, hiding dog food, checking traps, and throwing out belongings ruined by mouse urine, feces, and chewing. They ruled our lives. Our first instint, upon returning home (after making sure the dog was alive), was always to glance at the traps. Once of course there was the dead mouse on the kitchen floor, sprawled out as we assume the poison did him in. Once, in a fit of freak-out, I cornered a mouse on the dog’s water bowl, bumped the bowl, and the little fucker drowned. They made a runway behind our couch and we could hear them running Olympics each night as we watched TV. We could hear the scritch-scratching of their little claws.

    I hate, I hate, I hate, I hate the mice. I think we have PTSD from the whole ordeal. I have no solutions, but I feel your pain.

    In our new house, we are blessed that our neighbors have cats, and that they care for a couple of alley cats. On more than one occasion, we have seen the precious beautiful feral cats pouncing on and destroying rodents of some sort. It’s a marvelous thing. We haven’t had mice since moving in.

  4. thaino September 20, 2010 at 08:19 #

    Having had mice in the UK I thought I was fairly well adjusted to the whole infestation thing.

    Recently I had cockroaches…

    I’ll be honest there are so many traps down and so much poison spread about that my flat has become what is known in the local area as ‘Roach-Apocalypse’.

    Evil bastard things with their little faces. Die.

    I am the destroyer!

  5. Sara September 20, 2010 at 08:53 #

    I am the SAME exact way about roaches. I will go into panic crying mode IMMEDIATELY if I’m home alone and see one.

  6. Martin September 20, 2010 at 13:29 #

    Those fuckers.

  7. natalie September 22, 2010 at 21:52 #

    seriously get a cat! i fucking hate mice.

  8. Granite Tiles November 16, 2010 at 13:12 #

    living rooms should be decorated with style that is why i always get some living room decoration idea on the internet `-“

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