“We Got Mice!”

Mark announced it loud enough so that anyone even loosely paying attention could hear him. Loud enough to to hit par with an enthusiastic greeting, but certainly not a shout — this is an office — this is a professional environment — for some people.

Mark had set traps recently (I’m not sure when) and found two mice with their little spines or skulls snapped by the steel half rectangle.

I wasn’t surprised.

I didn’t jump up and trolley over with in ill attempt of nonchalance.

I sat and smirked at my jar of almonds and dried fruit on my desk. My smirk dripped into a frown as quickly as it came and my inner germaphobe gagged.

One of those mice has been, probably, all over my desk! Or, at the very least, around half of my desk.

I first suspected my office had mice about 6 weeks ago after switching to a different desk. I have a box of tissues on my desk very much like this box, but simply brown, not all cool and musical.

For the past several weeks, usually on Monday morning, I’ve welcomed myself to a desk with torn up bits of tissue covering a portion of my desk, making a trail along the cube wall. My first though was obviously, “What the hell!” My second thought suspected that the cleaning guy chose to hate me.

Without even knowing me, he hates me. Probably because I don’t recycle my pop cans. What a dick.

It happened two more times and with each time the suspicion I had been trying to ignore grew more obviously and harder to ignore.

dammit, I don’t want to deal with mice. Should I tell someone?

Instead of telling someone though, I took an almond out of the jar on my desk and placed it beneath a file wrack. If the cleaning guy really hates me, this won’t be gone. If it’s mice, it will be. Mice eat almonds, right?

I came into the office yesterday and found more shredded tissue on my desk than normal. I cleaned it off and looked for the almond. It wasn’t there.

I should probably tell someone.

“We Got Mice”

Mark announced it loud enough so that anyone even loosely paying attention could hear him. Loud enough to to hit par with an enthusiastic greeting, but certainly not a shout — this is an office — this is a professional environment — for some people.

Mark had set traps recently (I’m not sure when) and found two mice with their little spines or skulls snapped by the steel half rectangle.

I wasn’t surprised.

I came into my office today and found more  shredded tissue.

We still have mice.

I need to wash my hands.

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