Tattoomuis

Aan de Weesperzijde 41 in Amsterdam staat tot 31 december het Muizenhuis: een te schattige verzameling gestapelde kamertjes, met daarin muizenfamilies. Het huis – gemaakt door Karina Content (Schaapman) dient als décor voor een kinderboek en gaat in 2011 op reis door Nederland. Het Muizenhuis maakt blij (ook voor iemand met een eigen muizenhuis). Kijk maar naar deze zeeman-muis, die tien hoog achter woont en getatoeëerd is door buurtbewoner Henk Schiffmacher. En van dat soort vrolijkheid een hele etalage vol.

On mice (last one)

Last one because I’ve poisoned the lot. Sigh. It just got out of hand. Every morning, a couple of mouse droppings in the kitchen and most evenings, scratching noises in the bedroom. Then I caught one in the living room (Dog didn’t notice thing. He’s such a useless hunter). The mouse was tiny and clueless and one of a huge litter, undoubtedly. So it’s the parents that have been raiding the kitchen and partying behind the bedroom closet. Tiny mouse escaped, ofcourse, when I tried to slide a bit of paper underneath the Tupperware-box, cause they only need a hair’s breadth to wriggle through. The message was clear though: my house was being overrun by mice. I gave in and bought poison.

So there you have it. The rise and fall of a generation of mice, terminated by a handful of metallic blue pellets. I hate it. Sometimes I’m just too fucking buddhist for my own good.

Of Mice & Men (and proud women)

I pride myself in being independent. I live by myself, earn my own money, am my own boss and sometimes that of Dog. I do not need a man for anything that isn’t fun. Except in two cases: electric wiring and mice. The three lamps in the house that are mine were fixed and hung by my brother, my ex-husband and an electrician, respectively. That’s fine. I can still do the basic DIY. What really hurts my pride is that I can’t deal with mice. I need help.