Saturday, February 6, 2016

My Love Language Is Rodent Removal

Oh you know, it's just a typical Saturday around here.
I'm awoken at the break of dawn to affix a perfect ponytail for my eldest, on her way to her first livestock judging meet (Thanks, Teresa for the lift!). As I stumble down the stairs to say good bye to Anna and Joe (who is also off to chore, take kids to State Degree Interviews and chore again), I am jolted awake, not by a sweet cup of coffee handed to me (which, in reality, Joe had already made the coffee, so that's a win), but the harrowing tale of mouse extraction from our same stupid cupboard that seems to be the Maui of Mouse Culture.


I couldn't have been more happy. You see, Joe's gone for most of the day today, and should I have opened that stupid cabinet to remove my electric skillet to make the Saturday Morning Pancakes and would have seen this mouse, I would have FREAKED THE FREAK OUT.

I hate mice.


I know, I know...I have heard it all:

You live on a farm.
There's a ginormous field behind your house.
Mice need a warm place to live.

I get it.

Let me reiterate though:
I hatehatehatehatehatehate mice.

I hate that now I have to clean the cupboard again. Hate that this little one, as it was stuck in the trap gnawed on the cord of my crock pot, because I guess when you're in your final hours, you need to gnaw on something. Maybe I'll understand in my final hours.

Despite my hatred, my love language is assuaged when Joe removes mice without any grandeur. Never is love shown more deeply to me than a mouse extraction without me having to find it first.

So husbands/boyfriends/special life friends, in this month of love, I advise you all to find a simple demonstration of love for your significant other. There are days that something like this can make all the difference.

Side note...don't get any ideas about Valentine's Day, Farmer Joe. I already have a pest man, so jewelry or flowers are just fine. Mice extraction is an every day love demonstration.

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