We found out we had mice in our apartment. We researched, bought supplies, and mice-proofed our apartment as best we could. A few months after that, I saw another mouse. I threw up my hands and wanted to find another apartment. We failed at finding a new apartment. In this post, we will sum up everything we’ve learned and what really worked (for us, at least).
Throughout this ordeal, I’ve scoured the Internet for information – mostly I found random threads and a few stories here and there. But I never chanced upon a blog that chronicled the financial, emotional, and deeply personal battle that results from living in a mice-infested apartment. Either people just aren’t affected by this sort of stuff or people just don’t want to talk about it.
Well, it makes me feel so much better to talk about it.
I can’t describe the shame and guilt that I felt about having mice in my apartment. Somehow I figured it was my fault – mice are dirty, ergo dirty people must have mice. Dirty people = me and ST. When I told my landlord’s son, he insisted that when he was living in this apartment, he’d never seen mice. So it must be something we’re doing wrong. The problem must have started with us.
This couldn’t be further from the truth.
I tossed and turned last night and couldn’t really sleep until around 5 am. I kept dreaming about checking the mouse traps and seeing only poop and no dead mice. I seriously think I heard squeaking and scratching behind the walls. I even got up and turned the lights on to inspect. ST didn’t like that at all.
Now, after we’ve used up our last can of Great Stuff and laid out as many traps as humanly possible, as I sit here reflecting on the past 72 hours of my own personal hell, this is what I’ve learned.
Through trial and error, we found what worked most effectively for us. Here’s what you’ll need.
It is better to be safe than sorry so OVERDO IT. Overdo the crap out of it.
THIS STUFF DIDN’T WORK
If things don’t work out in the future, these are additional defenses we intend to try:
We know that this probably isn’t the final battle. It’s only a matter of time before the mice dig themselves a new hole or chew through rocks and plumbing foam. Both scenarios are highly likely. Moving would be the best thing to do although probably the hardest. The problem is that we have nowhere to go. Last week, we looked at 6 apartments, all of which were far worse than our current situation. Such is the plight of the common renter in NYC.
ST and I are now thinking and re-thinking our future plans for buying a home in Brooklyn. The popular spots are among the most highly-trafficked by mice and other vermin. It’s cute because ST constantly says, “When we move we’ll get this” or “When we move, we’ll get rid of that.” Everybody needs a goal and a hope for something more, something better. We’ll get there.
This afternoon as I was waited for ST to get ready for lunch, I settled myself on the couch and began reading my Kindle. I kept hearing these soft thumping noises but just assumed they were from our neighbors. Suddenly, I heard a thump that seemed kind of close to me. I looked around the room and…
Warning: Don’t continue if you don’t want to see a picture of a mouse.
I loathe rodents. Who doesn’t? They are twitchy, dirty, and disgusting.
Sunset Park, like most parts of NYC, is mice-infested. Lovely, I know. Here are the main issues -
Me and the mice in our apartment have an unspoken grudge against each other and try to one up the other every chance we get. I am vigilant of mouse holes to the point of paranoia; the mice only reveal themselves to me – seriously. I was sitting in the kitchen one day while ST was at work. All of a sudden, this little gray guy runs from the living room, under the fridge, and along the kitchen cabinets to get to his hiding place.
After freaking out perched on a stool for 3 minutes, I realized this was war.
My first plan of action was to call the exterminator again since we have a 2 year guarantee with him. He came and did his thing. We found that the mice had chewed through the white foam he used initially. Mice eat everything. This time, he went over everything with caulk.
The next night as I’m getting a glass of water alone in the kitchen, I SEE ANOTHER HOLE. Oh, HELL NO. You will not play me again, mice. I immediately texted the exterminator but he told us a bunch of excuses why he can’t come until next week. Perfect.
So, I checked the patched holes and found that those pests have been busy undoing all our work.
I did some research on the web and formed a plan of action: