I’m sitting on the toilet with my drawers (undies) and summer shorts around my ankles when a fat mouse runs past me and turns right at the bathroom door toward the large closet stuffed with both needed and unneeded items that I remain reluctant to part with. I have never felt so vulnerable, and again, so helpless. I could not move fast. I’m half naked, so to speak. My brain went into over-drive. I couldn’t decide whether to scream or cry. I’ve got mice in my apartment. It was fat! Was it an escaped pet? Later, my friend Muriel offered, perhaps it was pregnant, (oh, no!) I had gone for a quick pit-stop, and the safety and healthiness of my apartment is in question. I’m almost 85 years and I’ve never had mice before (that I know of). I’ve had to deal with roaches (those horrible night crawlers that come out in darkness and scatter so quickly when light is turned on). Those critters forced me to move because the landlord was too slow in taking care of the problem.

I went to the leasing office where they informed me that the exterminator would be making rounds a week form the following Thursday. I was given three (3) fold over sticky pads to use in the meantime. I called my youngest son (poor baby.) Both my sons are senior citizens, dealing with a mother in need as well as their own families.  I try not to call too often from a needy position, but life is what it is and during his long commute home from work, he talked with me about a fat, perhaps pregnant mouse. He came the next evening (Thursday) after work. He set four (4) snapping traps that my neighbor gave me, as well as the three sticky ones supplied by the leasing office. Well, Friday morning I found one (1) in the kitchen caught in the sticky pad. On Friday evening my wonderful son came to help me dispose of the mouse caught in the kitchen on the sticky trap. It’s hard for me to look at dead bug, critter or human. In my community, at a funeral it is a common practice for attendees to be march past the coffin for a last look at the deceased. I take part only because of the awkwardness of not following directions of the Pastor. Many attendees pause at the front row family pew to exchange loving remarks of support. The piano or organ music commonly played during this time in funeral service, reflect a connection to the religious practices and beliefs of the deceased. Songs like “Precious Lord, Take My Hand”, “Goin Up Yonder” or “Order My Steps”. My cousin who lived boldly with a second family around the corner from his wife a kids had Sinatra’s “I did It My Way” played at his memorial service. As I walk pass the coffin, I quickly glimpse, no matter that I did not want to. Sometimes the deceased resembles an asleep version of the person I knew. However, most times, in my opinion, the preparation misses the mark. The cold form lying in the masses of satin in bronze box looks nothing like the person I knew. I’ve decided on cremation. Those are the things that come to mind at my age when dealing with death of a rodent or the ants that invaded while dealing with mice. The marching ants remind me of how focused and purposeful life can and must be.

My son led the battle with the mice with the help of the exterminator, and we caught four (4) of the tiny creatures who actually look a lot like Mickey (I did a quick glimpse). I later found that management of my apartment complex was doing some renovations on the downstairs apartments as persons vacated. My third-floor apartment was an escape route from disturbance (I choose not to think about how and why). At a senior complex, as mine is, there are myriad reasons for vacated apartments. Steel wool stuffed around under sink pipes openings and thorough cleaning of surrounding areas where evidence of droppings was in order.

I now perform a quick survey of my small bathroom as I begin a pit stop. However, sometimes time and urgency prevent looking around and one must concentrate on preparation for the sit-down for us females. Lesson learned- the bathroom, as Janet Leigh found in “Psycho” can be the most defenseless room in the house.