There are challenges that I expected as a farm wife . . . an escaped calf, mechanical breakdowns, long days of being alone, etc. Then there are the scenarios that I just couldn’t predict, like my commute home today. . .
After working from home on Wednesday, I got into my car on Thursday morning and thought, “geez, this car stinks.” I assumed it had been the two sets of golf clubs in the trunk from our Tuesday night golf outing (our clubs just hang out in the garage where they soak up the rich cattle manure smell). Problem solved.
I told Farmer J about my stinky car when I returned home, and he fully agreed that it was bad. Maybe a dead mouse in one of our golf bags? (I only wish that had been the case now.) In an attempt to remedy this issue, this morning, I drove all the way to Des Moines with the windows cracked to air things out. The smell was fresh and the temperature was right. Nothing strange to note, just my typical commuting routine.
Work was work, and around 4:45 I decided to call it a week. I hopped in the car and thought, “dang, all that fresh air and it STILL smells horrible.” The lingering scent put me on a mission. I checked under seats, in cup-holders, in the trunk, under cushions, etc. to find this dang dead mouse. Nothing. I did spy three mouse turd looking artifacts in my cup-holder that should have signaled more terror to me. Alas, I did not find anything conclusive. Time to cease the search and head home.
All was well until about 10 miles into the trip . . . I heard something scratching . . . odd . . . I heard it again . .. . and with a brief glance at the passenger seat a saw a glimpse of a live mouse trying to climb the wall into my new Kate Spade purse. FREAK THE HECK OUT (while driving mind you).
I didn’t really think I was THAT scared of mice. It was an expectation for me that they would be in my house and around the farm because that is just a fact of life when it comes to living on the farm . . . BUT NOT MY CAR! When it’s in the car, I can’t run, I can’t jump, and I can’t hide. That’s terrifying.
I immediately called Farmer J in a hysterical panic. I am barely audible at this point. His solution, pull over, open all the doors, and chase him out.
I try this for at least 15 minutes. I see the mouse, I attempt to poke him out the door with the ice scraper, and he scurries the other way. It was maddening. At least 3 people tried to stop and help me, which was very kind, but I wanted a sign that read “NEVER MIND ME, JUST A CRAZY LADY TRYING TO REMOVE A RODENT FROM HER CAR!” My hysteria was increasingly progressing as I realized I had no choice but to drive home with the mouse in our unexpected carpool.
Luckily, my sweet farmer was kind enough to postpone chores a bit, meet me half way, and drive my mouse infested vehicle home.
I am now nursing a glass of chardonnay in preparation for the next phase of this adventure . . . setting the trap line to catch this monster.