“?! You little shit.”
As I stand stock still in the pantry it’s confirmed—I am in fact not hearing things. A mouse has gotten in through the hole in the floor that the people in charge of this hole of a building refuse to fix.
(Of course, this on top of the black mold, the falling-in-bathroom walls, the leaky pipe, the decaying space under my kitchen sink that has been that way since I moved in…)
I moved the trap to the path of where the mouse has been going, but it seems to have wised up. (“You little shit.”) Now I’m about to clear out the pantry and put down a couple more glue traps.
On the upside, I’m on vacation until Friday.