Dilemma

I did something stupid, and now I'm stuck. Or rather, it's stuck and I don't know what to do.

This will probably sound dumb to most people - because it is, I guess. But when it comes to animals I'm just a huge dope. About ten years ago one of our neighbours brought mice to the area, and ever since we've periodically had the damn things get inside the house. They cause all kinds of destruction, shredding paper and getting into our food, and they leave their little pellets everywhere. They're horrible, so whenever they show up we bait some traps and wait. It takes days sometimes, but eventually the trap will go "Crack!" and there'll be a little body in there ready for disposal. It's never bothered me, because the stupid things don't have to go for the bait. It's not like I'm personally killing them. (And yes, I know how dumb that is - but I'm a dope, remember? The rationalization helps me sleep at night.)

So anyway, the current mouse actually broke one of our old, rusting traps. He went for the bait and managed to get out before the trap swung shut, breaking off the little platform the peanut butter was smeared on in the process. So we needed a new trap. I went to the Dollar Store and they had these glue traps, four for a dollar. Cheap! I bought some and set one out, never really thinking about the consequences.

And tonight it worked. I found a little grey mouse stuck to the trap, hopelessly smeared into the glue. But he was still alive! When he heard me he started to frantically thrash about, in an effort to pull free (to no avail), and when I picked up the trap he squeaked! I left him there.

Now I don't know what to do. It's easy when they're dead, but I can't kill this mouse. I woke up my Dad to ask him for advice. He got out of bed and filled up a bottle full of water, intending to drown it, but I wouldn't let him. That made him mad, and he asked me why I woke him up at all if I wasn't going to deal with it, and I didn't know what to say. I can't kill this little thing, the instinct to do so just isn't in me. And I can't let someone else kill it either, because I bought the stupid trap and it's my responsibility.

Right now I left it oustside in the back yard, still stuck in the trap, but covered by a tin can. In the morning I'll have to deal with this, but I don't know what to do.

EDIT: Dilemma over
I'm never going to use glue traps again. The other three traps in that package are going straight into the garbage.

But it seems my dilemma has been solved, though not by me. This morning I woke up and went outside to check on the mouse - and it was gone!

The tin can was still there, and still in the same upside-down position I left it in. But when I lifted the can, there was no mouse and no trap underneath. Something happened last night, most likely a cat or dog came by, and the only clue to the possible violence was the mouse's severed tail, which was lying beside the can. So that's the end of that, I suppose.

I know I shouldn't feel relieved, but I do.

EDIT 2: A little background on our mouse problem:

We never had mice in our neighbourhood until this old lady across the alley brought in a bunch of junk. She dumped it in her backyard, and it must have been infested with mice, because suddenly there were five or six of the things in our house. They must have been starving, because they ran around everywhere, day and night. One of them even tried to run up my Dad's pant leg when he was watching TV! Downstairs they chewed up all the newspaper they could find, and even scratched the paper labels off the tin cans in our pantry. Awful creatures.

We got rid of 'em eventually, though. Sometimes they stay clear of the traps for awhile (especially if the traps have been used before and they can smell other mice on them), but they eventually go for the bait and get caught. Never fails.

EDIT 3: The Death Toll Rises

We just caught another one! We set a couple of the old fashioned snap traps by the heating vent (aka: the mouse transit system) just in case, because you never know if more of them are hanging around. But I really didn't think they'd be back for a while. So I'm watching a movie and ... snap! A stupid mouse got caught and died right in front of me.

Stupid mouse creatures. I hate this. Why can't they stay outside?

Night of Discordia

This is just a quick entry to record something strange that happened yesterday. There's no substantive value to this post whatsoever, so skip over it if you're looking for something good to read. ;)

So, okay. Last night I'm watching this movie called "The Number 23," starring Jim Carrey and Virginia Madsen. It's a really, really strange picture about this guy who starts to see the number twenty-three everywhere, on clocks and in people's names and addresses and so on, and the more he sees it the more he becomes convinced that the number is controlling his destiny. And what makes it even weirder is that other people in the movie believe it too. Like I said, it's a very strange picture. Not a particularly good one, but really unusual in its subject matter. And it introduced me to this Twenty-Three business, which I'd never heard of before, which is kind of interesting.

Anyway, after the movie finished I shut down my computer and go to the bathroom to do some... thinking. (Yeah, that's what I'll call it.) So I'm in there....thinking.... about the weirdness of the movie when the lights suddenly shut off. The house is in total darkness. I finish thinking as best I can without light, wash my hands and go to a window to look outside. Apparently it's a blackout, because the street lights are off and it's just black on black out there, dark sky, dark silhouettes of trees and houses, dark like you never see it in the city. Then I hear the sound of a helicopter and a spotlight travels down the length of the street. I guess it's a police copter. They patrol the city at night, and maybe the blackout attracted their attention. But knowing what it is doesn't make that wandering spotlight any less eerie.

Then I decide to see what time it is, and go look for my watch. It takes a few minutes to locate it in the dark, so all told it's been ten minutes or so since the lights went out. Want to know what time it was?

Two forty-one AM, which means that the blackout occured at about 2:30.

Freaked me the heck out.

The Kindness Of Strangers

Something really nice happened to my family yesterday, and if you don't mind I'd like to tell you about it.

It's time to plant the garden, and with yesterday being a holiday I got Dad to come with me to the garden centre. It was pretty hard for him, because this was a small place full of plants and people, and poor Dad has to haul around this huge walker which tends to bang into things. And on top of that, he hasn't been out of the house much (except to go to his day hospital program) in the past five years, so he was kind of disoriented at first, and had to rely on me to scout out the shelves for him. Then I'd come get him and we'd work our way through the green, crowded aisles to wherever the best seedlings happened to be stashed. At first he was kind of mad at the crowd for, well, crowding him, but after a little while he started to get into the experience and was more like his old self, telling me which plants were better than the others (a lot of them were wilting from lack of water, poor things), and which ones he'd like to find.

So we gathered together a nice collection of seven plastic pots full of little vegetable plants (my dad's not a flower guy, except for Geraniums and roses, and we didn't need any of those), and we stand in line to pay. I'm in front with a cardboard box full of the seedlings and he's behind me. I keep shooting glances back at him to see if he's getting tired, but he seems fine at this point, much better than we arrived. We decide to buy some onion bulbs.

So I get to the cashier, and by this time I've figured out the total in my head, so I tell her "it's probably just under seventeen dollars." And she says, "You're going to be pleasantly surprised when we get to the end." Dad asks for the onions, then she totals everything up and it's actually a couple of bucks less than I thought it would be.

Then she turns to my Dad and says. "I told you you'd be pleasantly surprised. A lady about eleven or twelve people ahead of you gave me this..." And she shows us a twenty dollar bill. "She said that you reminded her of her father who recently passed away, and she wanted to pay for your purchases." And my Dad is just stunned, and so am I. At first Dad doesn't seem to understand, since he reached into his pocket and put his own twenty on the table. But she ignored it, rang everything up on the till and gave Dad six dollars, saying "And she said that you were to keep the change, for a nice coffee or something."

Then Dad and I are both saying "Thank you!" and I ask the cashier if the lady is still here, because I'd like to thank her in person. But she keeps saying that no, the woman was long gone.

So my Dad got free plants for his garden, and we both got a lesson on how kind strangers can be. Dad was a little ambivalent about starting a garden this year, since he wasn't sure he could eat all the vegetables, but that anonymous woman seems to have gotten him all fired up about growing things again. He said that he thought about what she did all last night, and today he's full of ideas on where he wants to put the plants. (And he wants me to write a letter to the newspaper thanking her, so maybe this is draft one of that.) And I'd really like to thank her, whoever she was, because her impulsive, unrequitable act of kindness really changed my Dad's mood that day, and may have made his whole summer.

I Love The 21st Century!

This is a quick entry, but I just had to share it with you.

Today I'm in the kitchen frying up some bacon, when the doorbell rings. I unplug the grill and rush to the front door as the bell rings again. And who's at the door? Why, it's Mr. Surly Mailman! And he's got a big package for me...

The new computer is here! Yay! So I'm very happy to see Mr. Surly Mailman, even though his expression seems to show that he hates my guts (getting heavy computers delivered in the mail probably doesn't help our relationship). I smile and say "Hello!" He glares at me and shoves the box in my arms, along with a handful of mail on top. Then he says "this card is crap" (refering to one of those "you weren't home so we're holding your mail at the post office" cards that he was filling out in the 40 seconds it took for me to get to the front door), and stomps down the steps.

It take me a few seconds to figure out how I can get the big computer box inside the house without spilling the mail, but I manage to get everything sorted. The new computer is here! Yay! So I put the box down and finish making the bacon sandwich, then sit down at the old computer to look at the Internet while munching.

And the first thing I see is an article about how my new computer is going to be obsolete in three to five years.

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/09/11/technology/11storage.html?ex=1347249600&en=b09d7ef0dc0d21b5&ei=5124&partner=digg&exprod=digg

God bless the 21st century!

That might sound like irony, but it's not. I do love this wonderful age that we live in, for many reasons, and one of the biggest is the way that so many science fiction concepts seem to finally be coming true. Just think, if this scientist's new technology works out, the hard drives five years from now might contain ten to a hundred times more data then they do now! That's whole lot of zeroes and ones. I'll probably have to buy a new computer.

But somehow I bet it'll be delivered by the same surly mailman. Or maybe a robot mailman that's ten to a hundred times surlier.

I Did Something Stupid Today

And I don't even know why. In fact, it was so dumb I almost decided not to write this down... but what the heck. I need to talk about it, even if the talk is writing and the audience is anybody who clicks the link. It's better than talking to myself. I'll try to relate what happened without getting too personal. 

I was having a really crappy day. The details aren't important, but let's just say it was one of those days where you travel around everywhere but get almost nothing gets done. Very frustrating. And I was really tired.

So I get off the bus and walk by this 7-Eleven that's about three blocks from my home. It used to be a normal place, but for some reason the alley behind the store has recently become a magnet for weirdos. All these nasty looking people hang around outside the place now. I don't know where they come from. They don't seem to live in the neighborhood, but travelling to our little 7-11 and hanging out on the curb seems to give them a thrill. And as if that isn't weird enough, the police have developed the unfortunate habit of arresting downtown panhandlers, driving them up here where they don't know the geography, and then setting them free to wander around the parking lot and bother people. Thanks for the "service," guys. Glad to see that tax money isn't wasted.

Anyway, I'm walking past the 7-11 when this really aggressive panhandler tries to make eye contact with me. He says "Hey man, can you give me a dollar?" I've seen him once before, and even though I never gave him money, I felt sorry for him back then. He's got this orange beard and wild orange hair, and seems so desperate.

But today I'm in no mood for this, so I keep walking. He says "C'mon man, can't you give me a dollar?" And I say "No, I won't" in this really cold voice because I'm sick of him. Then, just as I've walked by, he says "Well, f**k you then."

And I just lose it. I spin around on my heel, point at him, and I shout "No, f**K you! F**k you!" And I'm screaming, just screaming at the top of my lungs like a crazy person. Suddenly, all the rage I've felt is bursting out of me and I'm pouring it out on this random guy I don't even know, like I'm a firehose and it's just coming out and can't be stopped. He yells something back, but I'm so out of my head at this point I don't even know what he said. Then he turns around to go the other way, and I start to leave.

But then he comes back and shouts something else, so I spin around again and shout "Do you want something? Do you want something?" And I start to walk towards him and I swear to God my intent is to beat his head in. I'm not a violent person. The last time I fought back was second grade, but suddenly I want to hurt this person. He could be tough enough to kick my ass. He could have a weapon. But I don't care. I need to hurt him.

Fortunately I don't get to do that, because he turns around and walks away. After a second, I do the same and start to walk home in the opposite direction. When I'm a block and a half away I can hear that he's come back to the corner and is shouting things at me, but I don't stop. It's like I proved something and don't care what he says anymore.

But when I got home the spell wore off and I started to get scared. Where in the world did all that anger come from? I pride myself on self control, and if anything my big problem is that I'm too repressed. Too inhibited. You can see that from the scarcity of entries on this blog. And there was nothing particularly awful about the last few days that was worse than other rotten times in the past. But for reason I just lost it and had no control over myself today. That's frightening.

And that's it. Don't know if it means anything, but it felt good to write it down.

Donald Duck Doesn't Care If You Die

I had the strangest dream last night. Normally I don't dream at all, or at least I don't remember the dreams if they happen. But this time was different, and I'd like to set some of it down before the whole thing fades away. A lot of it is already gone.

The first thing I should mention was that this dream was like a TV show. I mean, it had drama, special effects, subplots and even theme music, but it was also real. It was like I was a character in a show, and the show was my actual life. Everything was solid, and things had textures and smells. At the time I had no memory of "real" life, and I thought the dream was real.

I was in this big library. I think it was a part of a university, because there were connecting corridors and big stone entrances and people walking around in the corridors who looked like students, but I don't know anything for sure. A lot of the early part of the dream is gone now, so I can't remember much about how I got there (Bart Simpson and Homer were part of it, I think), but I ended up in this library.

And I'm looking at the books, and suddenly someone says that my Mom is in the hospital. And I freak out. In real life my Mom has been dead for almost twenty years but in the dream it's like that never happened, and I start to freak out. How can I get to the hospital to see her? It's like I have to go to the hospital, that's all-important. Nothing else matters, because she's in trouble.

Then this black guy and this fat librarian with glasses start to calm me down (each one of them has a separate voice in this very detailed dream), and then it's okay because my sister is there. She blonde and cute looking, well dressed (in blue jeans and a green sweater), and she understands exactly what I'm feeling because she's going through it too, although she freaks out in a more dignified and restrained manner. And I'm telling the three of them that I have to go to the hospital now! But at the same time I'm so glad sister is there, because it's so good to share these feelings of panic with someone. Then she gets a call that says mom has passed out and we freak out some more. I ask her for the phone, and she comes up close to me to pass it over and I swear I can still remember the feeling of contact as the two of us bump into each other. I felt her hip against my leg, and she felt so solid and real. It was darn erotic for someone who's supposed to be related.

But the thing is, I don't have a sister. Never did. And even in the dream I finally remember this. Then the three of them tell me that I've been hallucinating. In the dream I've been hallucinating.

It's the darn library. Apparently all you have do is pick up the books, and they speak to you. Sort of. What they actually do is fill your mind with hallucinations, and the more contact you have with the book the more it draws you into its world. If you open the book and start reading the process is inevitable, and if you check the book out of the library... Well, then you're pretty much stuck because the book is in charge and it takes you along on a ride. At that point you've got to figure out what the book wants and help it happen because that's the only way to find your path back to reality.

So like an idiot, I start to browse over the books on the shelves. I've still got this irrational urge to get to the hospital - but it's dream logic, y'know what I mean? Suddenly the books seem really fascinating. So I'm looking at the shelves, and I find this door that's covering half a shelf. I pull the door open and there's just bare metal shelving there, and something written on an index card. I lean forward to read the card... And the black guy pulls me away. He closes the door again and says that's not allowed. It's forbidden, or it's too strong or something like that. I can't remember.

So I get three books. A true crime book (which is funny, because I hate true crime books in real life), a science fiction novel (Wherein my former "sister" is a character. I think I touched it earlier, which started me hallucinating about her.), and a horror novel. (Again, I hate horror. But for some reason I wanted it in the library.) Then there's a lot of weird stuff I can't remember, but I think it had to do with me hallucinating monsters. These three people get the horror book out of my hands and the monsters go away. For some reason I don't have the science fiction book anymore.

Then I'm looking outside at the steps, and I see these parents with their little girl going into the library. And suddenly this creepy balding guy just materializes behind them. He's stalking the little girl in this exaggerated style, like a mummy or vampire from an old horror movie. They go inside, and I realize that they're hallucinations of real people. (The book tells me this, somehow.) They're a real family at the bus station, and this girl is really going to get abducted by the creepy bastard behind her, and I'm the only one who knows this. It pisses me off, because I don't want to go to the bus station. But I was dumb enough to pick up the true crime book, and now I've got this responsibility. Somebody has to save the girl. I really want to go the hospital, but I've got to go to the bus station first. I work this out in a conversation with the librarian, the blonde woman and the black guy, all of whom seem quite unconcerned about the whole situation, like they know what I'm going to do anyway and it's just a matter of me realizing it. They were a lot more agitated when I had the horror book, but kidnapped kids don't seem to bother them.

So I say my goodbyes and check the true crime book out of the library. The fat librarian gives me a gun. Then I'm walking down the steps and out onto the lawn when I see the librarian again, over by some bushes. (Don't ask me how he got there.) He asks for the gun back, then tells me that he indulged too much in some fantasy when he was my age. I can't remember what he said exactly, but it had to do with eating a lot of fantasy chocolate that was full of MSG. It destroyed his liver. Now, in his words (and for some reason I actually remember this part) it was "time to blow the kit to kerboodle." I try to convince him that life's worth living, but it's no use.

I don't want to see him commit suicide, so I walk back to the library steps. And there's the black guy and the woman who was supposed to be my sister, lying down with their backs flat on the stone and watching the stars. They're very cheerful.

I look back at where the librarian is, and suddenly all these Disney characters come out of the bushes. There's Donald Duck and Goofy and Mickey, and some others I can't remember. They walk right past the librarian like he's not even there and come towards us, going up the steps. I reach out to touch them, and just as the librarian is blowing his brains out I touch Donald's head and neck. He's cold and hard, like rubber. Like something that can't be alive, but somehow it is. He's moving, and talking to the two people lying on the steps. (Ignoring me just like he ignored the librarian, even though I'm touching him.) The three of them say something pleasant to each other, and then I wake up.

And man, was that weird. For a few seconds I'm a bit confused about what's dream and what's reality, and I still feel this really strong urge to get to the bus station and save the girl. Then I realize it was all a dream.

Freaky.

Hit my head today...

... and I'm writing about it here, because it was something I'd never experienced before. Or at least, not to this degree.

Early this afternoon I bent down to pick something off the floor - and BAM! I slammed my forehead into the corner of a wood desk. It's probably the hardest I've ever been hit. The impact left a gash on my head about three or four centimeters long, maybe a millimeter or two wide. And you know what they say about bleeding scalp wounds? It's true. That sucker bled for a while. Not a lot of blood overall, but it was this dark red trickle. Kind of scary.

But the worst part is how I felt after. It was like... being dizzy, like my head was a million miles away from my feet. Or maybe punch drunk, like in the cartoons when somebody gets hit and they see a bunch of little stars and birdies flying around their head. I didn't hallucinate anything, but I sure wasn't thinking straight. I spent twenty minutes just staring out the window for no reason, then set up a movie for my Dad to watch (he doesn't know how to use the VCR or computer, so I have to do it for him), then stumbled off to buy this week's comics. And once there, I had a really weird conversation with the guy who works in the store. I was asking him about Mouse Guard and he was telling me about Maus, and it took me several minutes to realize we weren't talking about the same thing. God knows what the other costumers thought of this guy with dried blood on his head, stumbling around the aisles. But I did end up buying four comics, so it was a good trip.

Anyway, it took about five hours, but the symptoms seems to be mostly gone now, and my head is firmly located back on my shoulders. No more dizziness, thank goodness. I just hope the gash heals over without scarring.