Rantings and Ravings
As the first signs of spring arrive, so does my desire to clean. It starts inside and then moves to the outside spaces of my home.
This winter we were invaded by an extended clan of field mice. My garage was infiltrated by the pesky little things. I heard them one day around New Years and I sent the dog out to investigate. She just stood in the garage looking bewildered at why I woke her up from a perfectly good nap to stand in the garage.
I told my husband about it when he got home and after a few days of ignoring me, he stumbled across the evidence he needed to take action. One of the varmints had gotten into his Porsche.
He bought every type of trap imaginable and set them throughout the garage. We bagged many of the critters and he gave me a daily body count as he checked his traps. I avoided dealing with the whole thing and chalked it up to one of those husband duties.
Which brings me back to this weekend when I needed to clean. The grandkids are riding their bikes daily now and it was difficult to find an easy place for them to put them away. Over the winter stuff piled up in every nook and cranny in the space. Two weeks ago I ran over a bike as I was backing the truck out.
So I needed to clean. As I moved stuff out and piled up the give away and the trash piles, I realized how extensively those furry little creatures had made themselves at home in my space.
Now I had to get a mask and mix up a bottle of bleach water. To be safe I went really heavy on the bleach. On went the rubber gloves, long sleeves and goggles. I had to drag out the shelving units to wash them off with the garden hose. I tried not to touch anything so I was convinced I could pull the shelves outside without taking the stuff off.
Almost home free I jerked the shelf and knocked off a bottle of Bug be Gone and the cold plastic shattered leaving a toxic, oily puddle in the middle of the floor. As I stepped backward, I landed on a squirt battle of car wax and added a generous dollop to the whole mix.
My husband offered to help, but he was getting over a bad case of the flu and I figured that if there was a threat of the Hantavirus, then he shouldn't be risking his already compromised immune system to help.
So I sprayed the entire garage, except the toxic spill, with bleach water. I sopped up the bug-car wax mess with an entire roll of paper towels. Then I broke out the hose to spray everything off.
By the time it was over, my hands were icicles, my glasses were so foggy I was bumping into things, and my pants were soaking wet. But the garage was clean.
I didn't end up with the Hantavirus. The bike got replaced as an early birthday present. I wanted to flip the thing over and run over it again to straighten it out, but I lost that fight.
My husband has replace the traps again. We haven't got a mouse in awhile, but you can never be too sure. I am setting my sights on the back yard now.
Boy do I have some big plans.