Sometimes, You Just Need A Man

So for the last few months, I've been having a bit of a mouse problem (Betchya saw the picture and thought it was gonna be something perverted, didn't ya? Don't blame me coz you have a dirty mind!). It's not that I'm scared of mice, more that I have a huge fear of them running across my feet. My mom told me that when she was a little girl living in the country, a rat bit one of her cousins on her toe and she had to get the toe amputated. Ever since then, I just haven't been the same around mice.

So anyway, in the beginning, I used to call Leigh, my trusted friend and neighbor. He'd come over and empty the glue trap, often with the still-squealing mouse attached to it (there's nothing more creepy than a squealing mouse on a trap...ugh!!). But then the mice got smarter and figured out how to dodge the trap, so there was one time when I saw one in my bedroom and tried to trap him in.

I called Leigh: "There's a mouse trapped in my bedroom. Can you come over and get him out, please?
Leigh: Is he on a trap?
Me: No, he's just somewhere in the bedroom.
Leigh: Just open the doors, he'll find his way out.
Me: I can't do that. At least now I know he's in the bedroom. If I open the doors, he could be anywhere in the house, and then I'll never be comfortable.
Leigh: (laughing) You're really making a big deal out of this.

I was a little upset that he was taking my fear so lightly, but he was doing ME a favor, so I had no choice but to deal with his teasing. But I remember thinking, "If I had a steady boyfriend, I wouldn't have to go through this! It'd just be part of his job as my man to help me with these little inconveniences." That was this summer.

So this week, I saw a little mouse in my living room. I immediately barricaded off the living room and spent the night shut up in my bedroom. I called Leigh again.

"There's a mouse in my living room."
Leigh: "Is it on a trap?"
Me: No, it's just running around in there. Can you come help me get it out?
This was like deja-vu.
Leigh: (exasperated, sounding a little annoyed) Well, it's 11 o'clock now, and I'm all the way up town. I'm not sure what you want me to do, if it's not on a trap. Just open the door and it'll go back out the way it came in.
Me: But then I won't know where it is, and I'll always be living with the fear.
Leigh: (even more annoyed) Well, I'll call you when I get into Brooklyn.

He never called. I didn't go to bed until 3:30 in the morning, convinced that every little sound I heard was the mouse, who had somehow managed to find his way into my sealed-off quarters. The next day he came over, laid some traps and sat with me while I cleaned out my living room closet to make sure the mouse wasn't hiding in it. Nothing. Shortly after Leigh left, the mouse comes running out of the same closet I'd just cleaned out from top to bottom. Needless to say, I haven't been in my living room since Tuesday.

This is where having a man around the house comes in handy. Yes, I like the independence of living alone, having my own space and not having to answer to anyone. Yes, I'm all for girl power, and the like. But when it comes to lizards, mice and things of the sort, I'll be a dependent-ass sista, because I just cannot handle it.

And you kinda need a boyfriend for that type of stuff; there are simply some things that you can't ask a date to do. Hey, I know this is our first date and all, but do you wanna come up for a nightcap....and check the traps in my living room for dead mice?

So I'm hoping my nephew will be able to come over this weekend and help a sista out. If not, I'm gonna have to get me a man.

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