"maybe we should get a boy."

but none of the boys were home, and both of the boyfriends were in class. therefore, we had only our own resources available to deal with the three mice.
the three mice in the stove.
of these three, two of the mice lay dead on styrofoam stickytraps, and one was well on its squeaking, twitching way.

it should be noted here than neither she nor i lean much towards squeamishness, particularly concerning mice. we've both owned snakes, and i for one spent a goodly part of the summer pulling spines out of dead rats to feed to opposum babies.

however.
shrieking did occur, as did a modest amount of hand-flapping and theatrical shuddering. but we no longer have dead or dying mice in our stove.

thank god.