We're up at the lake this weekend, very quiet weekend. We have been working on the fish house. Jay fixed the door and replaced a few rotten boards. We had to go to Menards for paint and boards. I painted.
This morning I made scrambled eggs. I made a huge batch: nine eggs, cheese, sausage crumbles, peppers, and onions. I melted half a stick of butter and poured it into the pan.
It smelled lovely, as melting butter always does. I turned down the heat and stood there turning the eggs over and moving them around. They started to cook and turn deliciously yellow. That's when I noticed the frying pan seemed to be giving off flecks.
I peered into the pan and turned the eggs some more and then I realized what I was seeing.
Oh, Lord Help Me.
Mouse shit.
I stared and kind of gagged a little. Kari said I sounded very sad, "OH dear."
And yeah, they went in the trash.
And I had only 5 more eggs and no cheese, and yeah.
No eggs for you people.
We have had zero mice in a year. Zero. Now, obviously, they are back.
This is war.
We had fun with these last weekend. Milanos are Julia's favorite. Mixed reviews on the Pumpkin Spice.
Joe had his sailboat in the water, spent some time teaching John how to maneuver.
Apples to Apples:
Anyway, nobody ate mouse poop, so we're good, though repulsed.
Onward.
Love, Val
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