House of the Mouse

It was a few days ago that Dan delved into 'bulk food corner' of Cheeques and we noticed that all the food had been nibbled. Like complete city living clueless prats, I think we sort of acknowledged that we had mice, but didn't really do anything about it.

But then the rattles and the crackles and the clawing started happening, when we were trying to find our alpine dreams.

We absolutely took Meg up on her offer and avoided our mouse infested home last night, but today, we took action.

Every single piece of our belongings, sat out there in The Grand Montets carpark that day, as we swept and shooed and made ridiculous cat sounds to try and encourage our new pets to take residence someplace else. Our brilliant neighbours came to see us, and casually said "Ah, you must have our mice - we've had them for ages.." But there we were, frantically sweeping and scrubbing away every last remnants of mouse shit from, well, everywhere, wishing them well, but urging them to arse off once + for all.

We didn't want to leave our nice little van town, but thought if the little fudgers were still fidgeting around, then a good old ride in the splurging gyrating gristle in the spluttering Cheequey bus would rid them well and truly.. So we honked it up a hill + made a home in the SuperU carpark in Argentiere and made our way over to play a ping pong tournament in an attempt to wash the mouse out of our systems.

Sure enough though, as soon as we retired back to our little home for the night, there we were welcomed with an attractive splattering of oblong tiny shits.

It was going to be another long night.