It's been awhile since my last update... And as usual, I have no excuses. Hah! Well, things have been a bit crazy, and our access to internet is kind of unreliable. But really, not a good excuse.
For starters, we've moved! (Again.) We're now a couple hours west of Oklahoma City, in a charming little town called Elk City. I actually really like it here... There are things to do! Restaurants, bars, a dance club, pool halls, shopping, coffee shops... I could go on. The people are really friendly, and it's just a nice place to call home for now. Pryor was nice, but this is just more home-ey.
Well, I guess I could call it home-ey, if we lived in a home. Since the length of this job is unknown, we couldn't get into an apartment. We may only be here a few weeks, so we've settled into a kitchenette room at the Travel Inn... Not my first choice for lodging, but it'll do. It's nice to have a kitchenette as opposed to a room with just a microwave... But the kitchenette leaves much to be desired. Only one of our two burners works. There is no stove, although we bought a toaster oven that works like a dream. Counter and cabinet space is limited, to say the very least. And the sink is itty-bitty, and too close to the walls. My elbows get sore from banging into the wall when I do dishes. But, we have a king sized bed, so that's a plus!
Another up-side to living in a motel is being close to the other pipeliners. It's nice to have interaction with other human beings. I cook dinners, we go to the bar together, we shoot paintballs out of a slingshot... It's nice to not feel so isolated anymore. And the guys are all really nice... I don't feel like the girly-girl in a room full of dudes. I've been doing some of their laundry, so there's a little income in that.
In the time we've been here, I was introduced to the ugly side of pipelining: Jody. It's a term used mostly in the military, that mainly refers to a man or a woman (since Jody is a unisex name) that is watching your homefront while you're out defending the homefront. Pipeliners are on the road for months at a time, often not going home to see their families. The time apart strains marriages and relationships. I know Skip and I have more issues when we're apart than when we're together. One of the guys on this project has gone through some rough times with his wife... No doubt a product of the distance and distrust that this lifestyle brings. They're getting a divorce, and he took his vacation time to pack up his things, and spend time with his kids.
This whole situation kind of hit me, and put bad thoughts in my head. No one ever wants to think, "What if that happens to us?"... But it enters your mind. At least, it entered my mind. I sincerely hope Skip doesn't plan on doing this traveling job for a great portion of his life. The money is great, and it's nice to see new places... But it's really not conducive to a family. I want to have kids someday, and I want to settle down. The last 6 months have been nothing but me really wanting a stable life... To be in one spot for more than a few months. I'd love to have a home with pictures on the wall and flowers on the porch. I'd love to have furniture, I'd love to live near my friends. I couldn't imagine raising kids in hotel rooms. But then again, I couldn't imagine raising kids a thousand miles away from their father, by myself.
I hope the economy picks up, so Skip can find a job that doesn't travel so much. I don't want to think about what this lifestyle could do to us... I don't want to think of all the tough times that might lie ahead for us, should he choose to do this long-term. I honestly don't know how my grandparents did this for so long while my grandpa traveled as a lineman. I guess their success is like my inspiration. If they can do it, then I guess we can too.
My internet access is now limited to time spent in a coffee shop... And quite frankly, I've been here too long. Three lattes is my limit, I think. Until next time, my faithful readers!
--Malaya
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Of Mice and Men.
For those of you not completely wired into my life via Facebook and Twitter (because like, you 3 people who read this might be anonymous strangers)... I have a mouse problem.
It started somewhere in the time period when I was in Fort Myers... Roxy kept barking and sniffing at a cabinet/area in our kitchen. Skip figured she was just crazy, so we let it go. Upon my return home, I also noticed her weird behavior... So I kept monitoring it. And eventually... Saw it.
IT was a mouse. A little-bitty, cutesy-wootsy, gray mouse. Said mouse was seen stealing food from my puppydogs' bowl, and then scurrying up under the cabinets with the bounty. This, of course, happened on the weekend, so I was unable to talk to our landlord about it. So, Skipper and I went about our regularly scheduled weekend fun... And came home to a dead mouse on the living room floor. Way to go, Roxy and Milo!
Or not.
Come Tuesday morning (this occured over Memorial Day weekend), I marched to the management office and told them the news: Our Apartment Has A Mouse Problem. I had spoken to the other people who live in my building, and they too had seen mice in their kitchens. This was, indeed, a Problem. The manager's husband agreed to take a look around my apartment, mostly just to appease me... Because once he surveyed the situation, he pretty much told me, "Oh well. It's just mice." Uh... Thanks, pal.
After this encounter (and an encounter with a mouse who was trapped in the pots and pans drawer under my stove), Skip and I decided to put out sticky glue paper traps. I was not thrilled with this idea... These mice are small and adorable, and I like animals a lot. So I made Skip agree to take every necessary precaution to save any surviving mice... If you pour cooking oil on them, they un-stick. And I also made him swear to set the traps at night, pick them up in the morning, and never speak of dead mice to me.
So the first night... We caught three. THREE. And two survived. (I made him tell me.) So, this brings our found mouse total to 5. (There was a dead baby one on the floor the day the man told me mice were inevitable.) Five! FIVE FREAKIN' MICE! In less than a week. This can't be normal, or acceptable... We're very clean people. So what the hell is going on?!
A few days after the three were caught, I was cleaning the kitchen... Putting away dishes that had been sitting in the dish drainer thing overnight... When I saw it... Well, them. MOUSE TURDS. Poop. Little tiny mouse droppings ON MY CLEAN DISHES. [Insert hysteria here.]
I went on a Google-ing rampage for things that repel mice... Armed with a new wealth of knowledge, and Skip's debit card, I went to Wal-Mart. Twenty-two dollars later, I had a sack full of homemade mouse repelling stuff. Mint extract, moth balls, and Bounce dryer sheets. Odd, yes, but hopefully effective. So I assembled little "sachets" of smelly stuff... Hoping that something would turn away our little houseguests. I tossed them under the cabinets, behind the fridge, and on the countertops... Anywhere the little buggers had been spotted.
My house now stunk like nothing I'd ever smelled before... But for several days, no mice. We had one little baby one that showed up on a sticky trap. (#6) So, we call it a success, yes? Not so fast. These scents are not permanent... They actually wear off in a few days, which is a blessing and a curse. My house no longer smells weird, but now the mice have returned.
And this brings me to Lucky #7... The mouse that made its way onto a sticky trap at about 8:30 this morning. I heard the all to familliar crash and squeak that signals a stuck rodent. The dogs ran to the kitchen, the mouse screamed at them, and they retreated. Fantastic. I texted Skip before I got out of the bed... "Did you pick up the sticky traps this morning before you left?" His response: "I'm sorry."
Ugh. So now there's a sticky, squirmey, squeaking mouse in my kitchen. I can hear it thrashing and moving, and the plastic scraping across the floor. I do not want to enter the kitchen, but I try to gather courage... I make it around the corner, and the thing screams at me. I didn't even see it. I retreated to the bedroom, and texted Skip again. "COME HOME NOW. I'm trapped in the bedroom." But of course... He can't come home. He's working out on the right-of-way, about 30 miles away from where I am. FML.
I called the office, and explained to the manager my predicament... I'm terrified of this screaming squirming thing on my floor... The mouse problem is really their problem, so I'm gonna need someone to remove this thing from my premises pronto. Her response was less than sympathetic... She said that everyone was out working on the property, but she'd see what she could do. FABULOUS.
About an hour later, her daughter shows up to extract the stuck mouse. I look like a complete wuss, but I really can't handle this. I want to kill my boyfriend. I want to GTFO of this apartment. I don't care where these mice go, as long as they leave me the hell alone. I've never lived somewhere that mice were common... Where people just go, "Eh, it's just a mouse," and expect you to just deal. I've caught 7. SEVEN. That's a lot of mice for a week. And several of them were babies. Eeeeech.
I've also recently noticed that they chewed a hole in the dog food bag... Which means I need to keep it out of their reach, and get the dogs off their free-feeding schedule. I've moved the bowls into our bedroom, but the last thing I need is a damn mouse in my bed.
Did I mention I want to kill my boyfriend?!
--Malaya
It started somewhere in the time period when I was in Fort Myers... Roxy kept barking and sniffing at a cabinet/area in our kitchen. Skip figured she was just crazy, so we let it go. Upon my return home, I also noticed her weird behavior... So I kept monitoring it. And eventually... Saw it.
IT was a mouse. A little-bitty, cutesy-wootsy, gray mouse. Said mouse was seen stealing food from my puppydogs' bowl, and then scurrying up under the cabinets with the bounty. This, of course, happened on the weekend, so I was unable to talk to our landlord about it. So, Skipper and I went about our regularly scheduled weekend fun... And came home to a dead mouse on the living room floor. Way to go, Roxy and Milo!
Or not.
Come Tuesday morning (this occured over Memorial Day weekend), I marched to the management office and told them the news: Our Apartment Has A Mouse Problem. I had spoken to the other people who live in my building, and they too had seen mice in their kitchens. This was, indeed, a Problem. The manager's husband agreed to take a look around my apartment, mostly just to appease me... Because once he surveyed the situation, he pretty much told me, "Oh well. It's just mice." Uh... Thanks, pal.
After this encounter (and an encounter with a mouse who was trapped in the pots and pans drawer under my stove), Skip and I decided to put out sticky glue paper traps. I was not thrilled with this idea... These mice are small and adorable, and I like animals a lot. So I made Skip agree to take every necessary precaution to save any surviving mice... If you pour cooking oil on them, they un-stick. And I also made him swear to set the traps at night, pick them up in the morning, and never speak of dead mice to me.
So the first night... We caught three. THREE. And two survived. (I made him tell me.) So, this brings our found mouse total to 5. (There was a dead baby one on the floor the day the man told me mice were inevitable.) Five! FIVE FREAKIN' MICE! In less than a week. This can't be normal, or acceptable... We're very clean people. So what the hell is going on?!
A few days after the three were caught, I was cleaning the kitchen... Putting away dishes that had been sitting in the dish drainer thing overnight... When I saw it... Well, them. MOUSE TURDS. Poop. Little tiny mouse droppings ON MY CLEAN DISHES. [Insert hysteria here.]
I went on a Google-ing rampage for things that repel mice... Armed with a new wealth of knowledge, and Skip's debit card, I went to Wal-Mart. Twenty-two dollars later, I had a sack full of homemade mouse repelling stuff. Mint extract, moth balls, and Bounce dryer sheets. Odd, yes, but hopefully effective. So I assembled little "sachets" of smelly stuff... Hoping that something would turn away our little houseguests. I tossed them under the cabinets, behind the fridge, and on the countertops... Anywhere the little buggers had been spotted.
My house now stunk like nothing I'd ever smelled before... But for several days, no mice. We had one little baby one that showed up on a sticky trap. (#6) So, we call it a success, yes? Not so fast. These scents are not permanent... They actually wear off in a few days, which is a blessing and a curse. My house no longer smells weird, but now the mice have returned.
And this brings me to Lucky #7... The mouse that made its way onto a sticky trap at about 8:30 this morning. I heard the all to familliar crash and squeak that signals a stuck rodent. The dogs ran to the kitchen, the mouse screamed at them, and they retreated. Fantastic. I texted Skip before I got out of the bed... "Did you pick up the sticky traps this morning before you left?" His response: "I'm sorry."
Ugh. So now there's a sticky, squirmey, squeaking mouse in my kitchen. I can hear it thrashing and moving, and the plastic scraping across the floor. I do not want to enter the kitchen, but I try to gather courage... I make it around the corner, and the thing screams at me. I didn't even see it. I retreated to the bedroom, and texted Skip again. "COME HOME NOW. I'm trapped in the bedroom." But of course... He can't come home. He's working out on the right-of-way, about 30 miles away from where I am. FML.
I called the office, and explained to the manager my predicament... I'm terrified of this screaming squirming thing on my floor... The mouse problem is really their problem, so I'm gonna need someone to remove this thing from my premises pronto. Her response was less than sympathetic... She said that everyone was out working on the property, but she'd see what she could do. FABULOUS.
About an hour later, her daughter shows up to extract the stuck mouse. I look like a complete wuss, but I really can't handle this. I want to kill my boyfriend. I want to GTFO of this apartment. I don't care where these mice go, as long as they leave me the hell alone. I've never lived somewhere that mice were common... Where people just go, "Eh, it's just a mouse," and expect you to just deal. I've caught 7. SEVEN. That's a lot of mice for a week. And several of them were babies. Eeeeech.
I've also recently noticed that they chewed a hole in the dog food bag... Which means I need to keep it out of their reach, and get the dogs off their free-feeding schedule. I've moved the bowls into our bedroom, but the last thing I need is a damn mouse in my bed.
Did I mention I want to kill my boyfriend?!
--Malaya
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