Okay, whew, here goes: I swept up two dead mice.
I know. I am the world's WORST pregnant person! What was I thinking (you're probably thinking)? Why would I do that (you're probably judging)?
No good reason, I'll tell you that much.
Last week we had an electrician come out to look at putting some fans on our back porch. While here, I took him up to the attic so he could see where he wanted to drop the wire...or something, I don't know. Anyway, we were up there, and I looked down, and inches from my foot I noticed two cat toys. Only they turned out not to be fake cat toy mice, but real life dead mice. Verrrry dead mice.
I didn't want the electrician to further judge us (the house was already a wreck), so I didn't scream or do any of the normal things, I just suppressed all emotion, and made a mental note to have Brad deal with them that night.
Well, when Brad got home, I told him about the dead mice and he said (and this is pretty much verbatim):
"Yeah, I know."
"What do you mean you know?"
"They've been up there for a really long time."
"No shit, they're almost completely decomposed! Why are they still there if you've known about them?"
"Stella, those dead mice are not the worst thing that's in that attic."
"WHAT?! What is the worst thing?!?!"
"I don't know, but I'm sure there are other dead things in there."
"Well get rid of them!"
"It's fiiiiiine. Don't worry about it."
"No, Brad, it is not fine. Civilized human beings do not live their lives knowing there are dead things in the attic. I will give you that there may be other unknown dead things, but we should at least remove the known dead things."
"Okay, I'll see what I can do."
Daaaaaaays later, they were not removed. I don't really understand this, at all, but I'm going to be generous and guess that Brad forgot.
I didn't forget. I've thought about those mice a lot, and today, in my crazy pregnancy brain, as I worked from home, I knew- just knew- I could smell them.
This of course is not true. In hindsight, considering how dead they were, I should have been able to smell them weeks ago. Regardless, I decided that I would take care of it.
Thoughts crossed my mind like "You're not even allowed to scoop cat litter, what business do you have messing with dead mice?" Still, I figured that if I took precautions, such as wearing gloves and covering the broom and dustbin with plastic bags, it would be okay.
I'll spare you the details, but it was pretty gross, and they did not want to go into the dustbin easily. And the trash bags were not cooperating. I did NOT touch them at any point though, and I held my breath a lot.
I took them right outside to the trash can and then ran inside and scrubbed my hands and washed my face in case there were any mouse particles that got on me.
Then I started to panic.
Why had I just done that? Obviously I wasn't smelling the mice. Why didn't I just wait until tomorrow when Brad was back from his work trip and insist that he do it? There was no immediate need to remove those dead mice. If they had been in the middle of the floor, yes. Attic for weeks, no.
Then I started thinking about what diseases I could get and pass on to the baby. Obviously, the plague. I couldn't really think of any other mouse related diseases, and I had sense enough not to start Googling, so I just fixated on the plague.
I called Pippy. She was very reassuring and told me I don't have the plague, but that I should probably not mess with any more dead things. I didn't want to call my mom because I felt like I might get in trouble (to spite being 30 and pregnant, I still don't want to be in trouble with my mom). She was not mad, and also very reassuring.
"Remember that pioneer women had babies and survived and they probably dealt with way worse."
"I think that most pioneer women and their babies died."
"Well, it's fine. You don't have the plague."
Finally, I called my nurse friend, Becky, and she assured me that I don't have the plague. So, if two attorneys and a nurse think I'm okay, then I'm probably okay. That said, if you're a doctor or any sort of rodent specialist, I don't want to hear from you. Because I'm okay.
I am. I'm okay. I do not have the plague.
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