Templeton´s Reign

While traveling is something I love and often seek out, once in a while I actually feel the need to stay in one place. There is a time limit at how long I can live out of a suitcase and sleep in a different place every night. After a while, I just start to crave the warm, comfort of my bed and to put my clothes away in their rightful places, which was exactly my plan as I returned from my trip to the states.

But of course, that wasn’t the case.

Instead of coming home and putting my feet up on my bed, I came home to a mouse infested room. 

Mice. Poop. Everywhere.

    On my dresser.

            In my dresser.

                    On my clothes.

                        In my clothes.

                            On my coatrack.

                                   In my coats.

                                       On my bed.

                                                            And even….*gulp*….in….my…..bed.

Now I know what you are saying, “Annie, you must of left your room a pig-sty! You must live in filth.” But on the contrary.

I may live in the campo, but I keep an impeccably clean room, at least when I travel. When I leave for a vacation, I leave things cleaner than if I was living there, which I most certainly get from my mother. But there is a method to the madness. It’s nicer to come home to a clean house than a dirty one, at least I think so.

So no, I left my room very clean.

So what attracted that feisty mice, you say??

Well I’ll tell you what. My Betty Crocker brownie mix, that’s what.

Yes, that is right. My own little Templeton wanted Betty Crocker’s goodness. Plastic didn’t stop him. Oh no. He tore right into that with his razor sharp front teeth and sucked that powdery goodness down to the last crystal. He was in sugary heaven. And even better, he was left all alone in my locked room. 

So for about three weeks, he, along with his friends, had the pleasure of making my room his own little kingdom with his sanitation policy being “I am going to poop where I lie.”

We used to me friends, Templeton and I. We used to co-exist happily. I could hear him at night crawling around and didn’t make too much noise, but he left me alone during the day. But once he dug his two teeth into my prized dessert mix, this meant war.

So unfortunately, my thoughts of relaxing once I got back were thwarted and in its place was a deep clean of every crevasse imaginable in my room, where yes, I found more mice poop.

But after a full day of cleaning and even cementing all the possible holes, my room is once again my sanctuary and Templeton’s reign is over.

…Or at least until I get my hands on another Betty Crocker Brownie mix or worst yet, Funfetti.