There are a lot of Disney critics out there, people who complain about about the movies from time to time, picking apart storylines and troubling themes (like the fact that a majority of the princesses seem incapable of aspiring to more than being swept away or saved by a handsome prince, or the fact that most Disney parents are either absent from the beginning or die tragically in the beginning to serve as a launch point for the story).
I’ve noticed these things, but I don’t bother getting really worked up about any of it. I enjoy analyzing the movies without allowing my emotions to run out of control, and mostly I appreciate the films for the pure entertainment value. I love the artwork and the design, the music and the masterful storytelling.
But there is one Disney movie that is officially on my shit list–Cinderella.
For a long time, Cinderella was one of my favorites growing up. I mean, who doesn’t love a rags to riches story? And it always felt so good to see Cinderella finally get the best of her wicked stepmother and those horrible stepsisters. But the best part of that movie was always the mice. I mean, come on. Jaq and Gus-Gus! Adorable! And the whole side storyline where they’re out-maneuvering and torturing the cat Lucifer? Hands down the best part of the movie.
But here’s where my current issue begins.
If I learned anything from Cinderella, it’s that mice are supposed to be cute and easy to train and surprisingly helpful around the house. They’re supposed to be clean and tidy. They’re supposed to help me with the housework and mend clothes and generally make my day-to-day existence more pleasant.
Web of lies!
On Sunday we discovered some tell-tale signs that we just might have a mouse in the house. Stevie says he’s been hearing some odd noises from the attic recently, and on Sunday, I noticed a few droppings and a nibbled granola bar wrapper. After a thorough investigation we noticed one little spot in a cupboard high above th stove that we barely use where a motivated mouse might just be able to squeeze through between the ceiling and the microwave exhaust vent.
Son of a bitch.
We decided to set up one of our Nest cameras to see if we could confirm if we were dealing with a mouse and, sure enough, around 11:00 pm on Sunday night, I got an alert. Motion detected. And I opened up the camera app to see the furry little rodent squeeze through the small opening in the ceiling and make a few laps through the empty cupboard.
Part of me can’t blame the little guy. It’s awful outside. The temperature is barely hitting the double digits and there is like 1,000 inches of snow on the ground at this point. I feel like I spend the bulk of my day just looking for a warmth and snacks too. Plus, if you forget for a moment that mice are dirty, disease-carrying little rodents, they’re actually kinda cute. Aren’t they?
But my practical, adult brain tells me that going easy on one mouse means I’m setting myself up for dealing with a whole lot more mice and the damage they can do to our walls, our electrical wires, our sanity. And I’m sorry, but like any other unwelcome invader (like flies or mosquitos or spiders), if you come into my house uninvited, all bets are off and you risk being exterminated on sight.
So, just to be on the safe side and make sure our little invader hadn’t made it any farther, I spent an entire day emptying out every cupboard, drawer, and hiding spot and then going all Marie Kondo as I cleaned everything up and tidied up the space. Not gonna lie, I’m excited about that part of it. This is the most organized my pantry has been since the kids were old enough to open the door and pick their own snacks.
I also purchased and set some traps.
And now, we wait.