ESCAPE FROM NEW YORK
by Malik Isasis
I'm at the airport just minutes before my flight, 55 minutes to be exact and my olfactory glands are still offended by a tall woman who stood before me in line, removing her shoes. She wore those fluffy UGG boots without socks and upon slipping them off her feet, the smell of corn chips and exotic French cheeses wafted about. I immediately stepped back to let the folks know behind me in the crowded line that it wasn't I who feet smelled of corn chips.
I'm on a one-week retreat back to my hometown, Seattle, Washington. It is a much-needed trip after having lived two months in a hellish mouse-infested apartment. Two months ago I moved into a nice apartment, or what I thought was a nice apartment.
One night while writing, I saw out the corners of my eyes what looked like a small shadow dart across the floor of my bedroom. "Naw, it can't be," I thought. This went on for a few days until finally the mouse ran across my feet as I sat at my desk writing; traumatized, I immediately talked to friends about my situation and they laughed. "Welcome to New York" was the sentiment. Check out the sympathy from one friend, here. I told my landlord and he said he'd take care of it.
He never did, but I'll get to that later.
I tried making peace with having a mouse, or as I would discover, mice. I even gave him a name: Jerry but Jerry and his family left turd droppings all over the kitchen cabinets. I stopped cooking and eating at home. I decided that it was time to take action against Jerry and Co. I sat out glue traps. Jerry was smart, very smart. It took two weeks before I caught Jerry.
If you’ve ever caught a mouse using glue traps, you’d probably find it an awful sight. They struggle and the more they do, the more they get stuck. It’s actually grotesque. A quick death is probably more ‘humane’.
After Jerry
Did you know mice are the third most successful mammals, ever? Of course behind its cousin the rat and humans. They breed a new litter every five weeks. Every night I began seeing little shadows darting out of corners and under doors. So, I named them as well, Titiana, Luke, Jesse, and Bart…I killed them all.
This idea that I could live with them was spurred on by the thought of having to look for another apartment. Apartment searching in New York feels like job searching, or Internet dating—it’s kind of a pain in the ass, time-consuming and cumbersome. I put it off.
It wasn’t until late one night that I was asleep and I felt something crawling up my legs. I jumped up like a cat and the mouse fell onto the mattress and scurried off under the heater vent. Again, I was traumatized. I slept horribly in a chair, upright the rest of the night. The next morning I immediately called my landlord.
“I’m moving out.”
“Oh, no—you don’t have to do that.” He said.
“But, I do because a mouse climbed up my leg last night in bed.”
“I’m coming over to deal with the problem, don’t worry about it.”
The previous night I received a phone call from a potential landlord who told me I got the apartment I wanted. This apartment was clean, and I inspected the crevices for mice droppings--I found none. I didn’t do this with the former apartment.
“I found another apartment and I’m moving out tomorrow.” I said.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” He said.
The Retreat
People are starting to board the plane so I’ll make this quick. Postings will be erratic until next week. I’m going home to enjoy the fresh air, and beautiful mountains. It is a much-needed respite from New York.
by Malik Isasis
I'm at the airport just minutes before my flight, 55 minutes to be exact and my olfactory glands are still offended by a tall woman who stood before me in line, removing her shoes. She wore those fluffy UGG boots without socks and upon slipping them off her feet, the smell of corn chips and exotic French cheeses wafted about. I immediately stepped back to let the folks know behind me in the crowded line that it wasn't I who feet smelled of corn chips.
I'm on a one-week retreat back to my hometown, Seattle, Washington. It is a much-needed trip after having lived two months in a hellish mouse-infested apartment. Two months ago I moved into a nice apartment, or what I thought was a nice apartment.
One night while writing, I saw out the corners of my eyes what looked like a small shadow dart across the floor of my bedroom. "Naw, it can't be," I thought. This went on for a few days until finally the mouse ran across my feet as I sat at my desk writing; traumatized, I immediately talked to friends about my situation and they laughed. "Welcome to New York" was the sentiment. Check out the sympathy from one friend, here. I told my landlord and he said he'd take care of it.
He never did, but I'll get to that later.
I tried making peace with having a mouse, or as I would discover, mice. I even gave him a name: Jerry but Jerry and his family left turd droppings all over the kitchen cabinets. I stopped cooking and eating at home. I decided that it was time to take action against Jerry and Co. I sat out glue traps. Jerry was smart, very smart. It took two weeks before I caught Jerry.
If you’ve ever caught a mouse using glue traps, you’d probably find it an awful sight. They struggle and the more they do, the more they get stuck. It’s actually grotesque. A quick death is probably more ‘humane’.
After Jerry
Did you know mice are the third most successful mammals, ever? Of course behind its cousin the rat and humans. They breed a new litter every five weeks. Every night I began seeing little shadows darting out of corners and under doors. So, I named them as well, Titiana, Luke, Jesse, and Bart…I killed them all.
This idea that I could live with them was spurred on by the thought of having to look for another apartment. Apartment searching in New York feels like job searching, or Internet dating—it’s kind of a pain in the ass, time-consuming and cumbersome. I put it off.
It wasn’t until late one night that I was asleep and I felt something crawling up my legs. I jumped up like a cat and the mouse fell onto the mattress and scurried off under the heater vent. Again, I was traumatized. I slept horribly in a chair, upright the rest of the night. The next morning I immediately called my landlord.
“I’m moving out.”
“Oh, no—you don’t have to do that.” He said.
“But, I do because a mouse climbed up my leg last night in bed.”
“I’m coming over to deal with the problem, don’t worry about it.”
The previous night I received a phone call from a potential landlord who told me I got the apartment I wanted. This apartment was clean, and I inspected the crevices for mice droppings--I found none. I didn’t do this with the former apartment.
“I found another apartment and I’m moving out tomorrow.” I said.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” He said.
The Retreat
People are starting to board the plane so I’ll make this quick. Postings will be erratic until next week. I’m going home to enjoy the fresh air, and beautiful mountains. It is a much-needed respite from New York.
posted by Malik Isasis at
11:38 AM
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