I was looking under some of the massive piles of paper on my office desk (totally random; my filing system bites) when I found a couple of tiny stray black pellets. The kind that could be fuzz or, more probably, MOUSE POOP. MOUSE POOP ON MY DESK.
This did not sit well with me.
Why? Because the thought of a mouse (*shiver* mice) cavorting around on my desk, long enough to need to have several metabolic cycles involving # 2s made me want to vomit. For real. I eat lunch at this desk. Mice having poop parties on my desk.
I wiped up the pellets with a tissue, scowling in disgust and set out to find help.
"There's mouse poop on my desk. HELP. Bring reinforcements. But whatever you do, don't make me see the morpses!"
A serious pest-control team was activated.
My desk was sanitized, and pest-control deployed a few traps under the radiator. They promised to check the traps before I came in each morning to clear the morpses. I CAN NOT DEAL WITH SEEING MORPSES.
Pest control man was laughing at me. You're a doctor. I would think you would find it fascinating, try to figure out the cause of death and then dissect it.
I'm not a vet.
I don't like rodents.
I especially don't like dead rodents.
"You're setting the traps with PEANUT BUTTER? Won't that just make all the mice make a pilgrimage to KC's office for more poop parties? Why not just sprinkle shredded cheese all over my office and put re-runs of Tom & Jerry on?"
Anyway. The traps are set. And if I even hear a snap, I'm running.