Every home needs a murderer. I could say MyUnwife murdered our marriage, It's a comfy bitter thought, but that was a team effort. I can admit to being designated rodent slayer. MyUnwife wanted nothing to do with critter-cide. She wasn't part of that team. She just said that there would be no sticky paw tape. The mice weren't allowed to live in her kitchen, but there would be no suffering under the sink.
Fine I could deal with that. I wasn't big on standard traps. I'm a klutz; A broken finger wasn't hard to imagine. I looked at a few catch and release traps. We both thought those were great ideas. Except the part where the only release point was a vacant lot behind our house. I wasn't going to send my mice on vacation, so that they could come back home with memorabilia and mouse ears. Well they already had the ears, but you know what I mean.
I finally settled on the zapper. The mouse went in a box for a piece of kibble, completed an electrical circuit, and immediately lost his appetite. It sucked for the mouse, but it did get them out of the kitchen—one lightening strike at a time.
I wish that the divorce could be like that. I mean, I'm not fond of being the mouse, but a quick zap and it's done. I could deal with that. But there are so many levels, financial, emotional, and everyday. It's like an infestation in and of itself. I walk into my living room to find that it's eaten half my furniture. I go into the kitchen and it's raided my spice cabinet. There are holes in every aspect of my life. There's a huge hole where MyWife should be. I'd like to zap it but I can't. It's like this one trap I saw. It held the mouse in the cage, but then you hooked up this thing they called the "drowning attachment, " and well you can guess the rest. That's kinda how I feel. I see life, and I live it within my confines, but the water is pouring in and there's no where to go. What can I do to pass the time? Why is this just like spinning my wheel?
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