Mouse-Proofing the House
All right, I admit it: you won’t find me checking the mouse traps in the morning. As much as I don’t want to live with the little guys, I just don’t have the heart to do anything with traps. I’m so thankful to have a male in the house. Of course, he doesn’t like it too much either. You could have spotted us pulling over on the highway a little while back. We had a mouse to let go.
So with mice forever on my mind, I thought I’d give you another peek into our house (our referring to Martin, me, and a shrinking number of mice but not shrinking number of really big bugs). Who knew that living as perma-movers meant we were awesome mice resisters at the same time? Certainly not us.
When you first walk into the door of the Tire House, you’re greeted with this sign:
Yep, part of living in other people’s homes means respecting their rules. We’re totally fine with the no shoes thing. We don’t wear them inside anyway. As for pets? We’d love to have some furry friends. A cat or dog would be a blast. But they’re expensive. I can’t kill a mouse, and I truly doubt I could handle making a pet fly overseas multiple times. So I’m thankful we have no temptation to get a pet as we live here. The mice apparently did not get the message: no animals allowed.
They did get the message that mattresses are fun places to hang out, though. Here’s how the bedding was safely stored before we moved in:
So how about some mouse prevention tips we’ve come up with on our own? Here’s my stuff:
Okay, okay. I realize plastic bins are not the most attractive thing in the world. Oh but they are the easiest way to pack and move (and move and move). We just take a little bit of packing tape and tape each one shut when it’s time to pack up. When we arrive at our new destination, we plop our bins somewhere, tear off the tape, and kick back ’cause guess what – we’re done unpacking.
Some day, a more attractive system like wooden drawers that I could paint little pictures on would be nice. In the meantime, these bins are perfect. They may have college kid written all over them, yet no mouse has made his way into my socks yet!
Let’s head to the kitchen now, shall we?
Here’s my portable spice collection. I feel so foolish to admit this to you: I actually have an old shoe box specifically designated for our spices. The little Pier One bottles fit perfectly, don’t they? (They’re still looking for a home.) Just as we store our spices, we’re discovering that all of our flour and other tasty mouse snacks need to be stored in glass jars, too. Then the kitchen needs to be crumb-free at night. These guys just don’t rest!
One last trick we picked up – and we just have to share – is the perfect “bait” for a mousetrap. The owner of the airport taught us this one. Instead of baiting your trap with cheese, use peanut butter. It lasts longer, and the mice lick it up as fast as… well you and me!
So that’s the story of the mice who got really excited when they saw us moving in with a bunch of fresh clothes and yummy food, only to discover we just weren’t into having them for roommates.
Curious about who we do love for roommates? Okay, maybe that’s a stretch. But here’s our favorite band and our favorite chef’s teensy kitchen.
June 3rd, 2009 at 3:53 am
i have to say the fact that most homes in Germany being made of concrete has been a good thing in terms of deterring rodents. We had wharf rats in our last basement and mice in the walls – so awful!! that house was made of wood, over 100yrs old, and a 3 minute walk to the ocean, so it was a recipe for rodent disaster. I lived in a restored farmhouse once and woke up one night to two mice trying to make a nest in my hair – HORRID! oh i have rodent stories and I TOTALLY empathize with your current problem!
My dad always told me to keep thinking of all the friendly mice I ‘knew’: Hunka Munka, Ralph the Motorcycle Mouse, and the Town Mouse and the Country Mouse. It helped sometimes…
June 3rd, 2009 at 5:04 am
Not only is peanut butter the best bait, but if you light a match to it, the peanut butter aquires a nice toasty smell and within 20 minutes, I would get a mouse. My husband refers to me as the Verminator.
June 3rd, 2009 at 7:29 am
Oh I’m so sorry to hear that you have a mouse problem – gross. But looks like you’ve come up with some good solutions for keeping them at bay!
June 3rd, 2009 at 8:29 am
Juliette, your old place sounds absolutely ewwww! I’d dare anything to get in those German walls now.
Thanks for the tip, Gretchen. Toasty pb, huh? We could do that!
Katie
June 3rd, 2009 at 10:36 am
ahh…. plastic drawers. I had a good laugh when we moved apartments this past weekend because over the last 8 years of living in the US, I have moved many times, and a good number of used furniture pieces have come and gone in the process. Some of the most lasting pieces are our plastic drawers, which is so ironic since they are cheap and not that asthetically pleasing. They do move well though, and they do the job!
I also transported my spices in shoe boxes, but decided I couldn’t keep them there because I’d never be able to find anything! I bought a cheap over-the-door rack from Walmart that provides a lot of storage for spices and sauces.
June 4th, 2009 at 3:13 am
It’s all about the school of hard knocks, isn’t it? It looks to me like you guys have this down to a science. I smell a “how to” book in there somewhere…….
August 19th, 2009 at 9:29 pm
It’s so nice to learn that others have the same mouse problem as myself. Misery loves company. What did we do to deserve them? I’m currently fighting off an invasion. I’ve seen the advance troops. There have been casualties, but the replacements arrive soon. I’ve had a pest service for three years. But, they’re having trouble this time.
When my late, great cat was alive, I never saw a mouse here. I never saw her acting as if there was one. Perhaps it was the smell of her cat litter. For that purpose, I’m having a friend save some used cat litter for me. I can put it down next to the garage door. Hopefully, the smell won’t travel upstairs. I have the misfortune of having a tiny garage built under the house, attached directly to the basement. I feel that’s the entryway of the rodents.
Before the service, I was once awakened from a couch snooze by something poking me in the back. I sprang off the couch to note a mouse streaking around the backside of the cushions. Once, I was in bed watching TV when I suddenly saw a large dark spot on my arm. I didn’t feel it, but I jerked my arm, and the mouse went flying.
I eventually understood how mice got on the counter with the sink. I prevented them from doing that. Once, I caught a mouse standing on the microwave, chewing away at the underside of the cabinet door.
I had an old Sears air conditioner, a big one, permanently mounted in the window. A couple of strings hung over the air conditioner. There was a cool spell, so it wasn’t needed. Then, I came in one night, and it was very warm. I snapped on the air conditioner. It started one, making a racket. I thought the bearing was gone. I turned it off, but turned it on again a few minutes later. It was fine. It sent out chilled air. Another cool spell happened. The next time I needed it, I turned it on. Momentarily, a stench came out of it, along with little pieces of mouse fur. As it cooled, the smell went away. Eventually, everything that was going to blow out was expelled. I used it for another season after that.
Tonight, I thought I had prevented mice from crawling up to an area to eat the crumbs from a toaster oven. In theory, I was right. Unfortunately, mice don’t know anything about theory, so they figured out some method of breaking my mind.
Each year, this mouse madness takes over my mind. I actually went to sit in the car to have a late snack. Hopefully, my 2008 car doesn’t have a problem. I left a few peanuts in there, so we’ll see.
I don’t mind mice in a cage. I had a white mouse as a kid. I even had a field mouse who’d been injured in an accident with a mouse trap.
I’m much bigger than a mouse. I’m 6′ 3″. I weigh about 330 pounds. I’m a man, by the way. If I’m startled by a mouse, it isn’t uncommon to hear me shriek in a womanly tone. I echo the sentiments of the cartoon cat who stated, “I hates meeses to pieces.”