Fear is a crazy thing. It changes our thought, behaviors. It’ll also cause you to not use your own master bathroom for 3 months. My name is Starchiksix, and I have Musophobia. Maybe I should rephrase that. I only have it indoors. For those of you who don’t know, musophobia- is the fear of mice. I love animals. Just not in my house.
Over the summer, we were awakened by screams by our daughters. They were yelling, “THERE’S A RAT IN OUR ROOM.” My fiancé gets up and tries to shoo it out as I am I standing on our bed in our room screaming, “Get that thing out of here.” My girls didn’t sleep in their room for weeks. We would see the occasional shadowy thing jet across the room. I was okay until I was taking a shower one day and one of the little creeps was staring at me from my bathroom floor. Creep- as in mouse, not one of the kids. After that, I was done. My feet didn’t touch the floor if I could help it and I started using the kids bathroom.
It was almost like they knew they spooked me. I started hearing them scratching in the walls. They would dart out from under my bed and go to the master bathroom. I’d see one in the kitchen running to its hiding place. They had their own TV show. I’m pretty sure they were doing some type of chant and dance around me while I slept. I’d have a panic attack just knowing I had to go home. I was volunteering for extra hours at work. I just felt the world closing in. Enough was enough. I set up traps and cleaned like I was tweaking. I googled, pintrested, yahood and wikihowd how to get rid of the vermin. I was seeing them less often but still saw them enough. I came home one day looking like a doc out of surgery. Complete with a surgical gown, hat and mask, armed with ammonia, steel wool and caulk, I was ready to go. I grabbed my stepson and we went to town cleaning, dousing the place in peppermint oil and ammonia. We opened a closet and found a hole the little shits chewed open. We plugged it with steel wool, caulked the hole close, taped over it and went on to the next room. We searched everyday for new holes, entry spots, exit spots, hang out spots. Finally there was no sign of them. It’s been two weeks and I just ventured into my master bathroom-when I was a lil tipsy last night.
I was tooting my own horn last night when my fiancé says that it wasn’t that big of a deal. He said they are little things that don’t bother anyone. Mind you, during this whole ordeal he did not help once plugging holes, setting traps, tossing traps, etc. I love him dearly but he was in the dog house. His excuse is that if I can try to protect him from a 300lb man, that he doesn’t need protecting from, sure a mouse shouldn’t be a big deal. He doesn’t realize that I cleaned my vag with Ninja Turtle soap because I was frightened to go in my own bathroom. He doesn’t get that this fear took over my life for a little while. I’m slowly starting to feel comfortable in my own home again. I don’t have to tinkle with my legs up, or run dive in the the shower every day.
Anyhow, I thought I’d share and toot my own horn to someone who may understand, that the struggle was real. To those dear little mice fuckers who tormented my life….Bye Felecia!