Christmas Eve, Carlos and I are in the kitchen, cleaning up from a day of baking cookies [me] and making his homemade cranberry marmalade [Carlos] and we began running the dishwasher. It was only about thirty minutes later when i heard Carlos shout out, We have a lick!
Lick? Lick. Lick! Leak!
We have a leak!
And sure enough, the floor in front of the sink and dishwasher is covered with water and Carlos in on his hands and knees sopping up the mess. I grab a mop and join in the battle and soon, we're dry. Towels are thrown in the washer and the mop returned to the laundry room. And the inspection of the dishwasher begins. No sign of it overflowing; no sign of a leak [lick?] through the door; we turn it back on, and water spews out from beneath it.
Turn it off!
A cursory glance under the sink reveals a hose meant to drain the dishwasher has a hole in it. Okay, so, no big deal, except that neither one of us is a plumber. So, we grab a file which contains the number of our home warranty service and they hook us up with a plumber who will be here in.....wait for it.........seven days. I know, it seems extreme to me, but, you know, Christmas, the holidays, non-emergency drips at a homo house. We waited.
New Year's Eve day, the plumber shows. I show him the plastic tubing with the hole in it, and he proceeds to remove the bottom panel of the dishwasher. He's laying on the floor, shining a flashlight under the dishwasher and says, You wanna see this?
See what, I wondered.
Oh.......the leak. Okay. Sure. I take the flashlight and peer beneath the dishwasher and there is a lovely pile of dog food stashed under there. Now, I've mentioned that Ozzo is a small dog...I often call him a PocketDog....I often say he rides in the glovebox of my car...I often say he's the size of a shoe. But, even tiny Ozzo couldn't have stashed his food under the dishwasher. He's neither that small, nor that bright.
It was a mouse. He'd found a way in, found the dog food, found a spot, and set up house. He used some dishwasher insulation to make a nest, and set up a buffet of Doggy Dinner. Then, you know as mice do, he became thirsty, and decided that a plastic pipe might hold some liquid. He began chewing the pipe to get a drink and the little rat-fuc......the little guy flooded his tiny condo and soaked all his food and created a huge mess.
Luckily, the plumber, Sean, had previously worked for a pest control company so he began barking instructions; I'm a sucker for a man with a tool belt and flashlight barking instructions, just so you know.
Move the bird house off the deck. the mice feed on the seed and then spiral out looking for more food and BAM they're in the house.
Take everything out of the cupboards and bleach them. The smell will keep the mouse away.
Get a glue trap, some peanut butter, and a nice glass of Sauvignon Blanc--okay, I suggested that last part because, well, even for a mouse I'm a good hostess--and put it under the dishwasher to trap the little squatter. If he's still there.
I think, and Sean agrees, that the flood may have sent the little monster packing. But..................to err on the side of rodent-free living, we followed instructions, and this is how we spent Sunday.
Effin' mouse.
Click em'....they emBIGGERate.
