So, according to this piece, researchers have discovered a liquid that extends life in mice.
May I request that they take their invention and hurl it down the toilet?
The mice in my house are living just long enough, thankyouverymuch. May I be so bold as to suggest they are actually living too long? Because anything that allows them to live long enough to crawl from their mother's womb, navigate my garage, scamper up the three concrete steps to my obviously-not-impermeable-door is too long.
I have a trap in my bread cupboard. I am aware that normal people have a bread box, or bin. But we are not normal people. We must have on hand, at all time, a loaf of rye, a loaf of bazillion grain bread, a loaf of whole wheat, two bags of bagels, a package of flax seed wraps (never know when someone is gonna want to stuff the leftovers into a wrap, and then stuff it in their mouth), hotdog buns, hamburger buns, and sometimes a loaf of Italian bread in case Mom makes garlic bread like she keeps promising but never delivering.
The mice love this cupboard. I stopped buying rye with caraway seeds. And the wraps with flax seed. Because. Ari spilled the pepper grinder yesterday, and I watched small black pellets spew on the counter and wanted to weep. I now must discern between caraway seeds, flax seed, peppercorns and mouse crap. My life is tough enough.
I turfed a fat little sucker two weeks ago. Somehow, they send out a signal, and the others stay away just long enough for me to get my guard down. I actually threw the little bugger out front in a bag as a kind of warning sign to his brethren; a mouse version of a head on a pole.
Maybe I'll get those live traps and collect a bunch, and mail them to the researchers.