When I get problems, I usually don't talk about them because it depresses me even more. Usually I'll talk about them after they're solved. But last night. Well, this post is just to let you know . . .

Over the weekend I heard the pitter-patter of tiny feet. I wouldn't believe it was a mouse or even mice. But on Tuesday, I saw the scat in several places around the house. Couldn't deny it any longer.
Fifteen years ago we had them and used those sticky mouse traps to get rid of them. I did not, do not, want to do that again. So I've bought some "bars" (little green squares made by Real Kill) that supposedly poison them humanely. The trick is to hope that they die outside. Yesterday the lady who cleans for me found some rotted wood above the back door, near the top of the frame where they could enter some crawl space, maybe even get into the attic. We need to repair and replace that opening.
Last night I put all twelve bars around the house, against the wall per instructions. When I checked on them this morning, they were in perfect condition. In other words -- not one nibble! Not a good thing.

Then, yesterday evening, after finishing dinner with my girl friend, I started to rinse the dishes when the double sink backed up. The last time this happened was a few days after hubby died. It was a mess getting it fixed.

I put some Zep Drain Care down and hoped that by this morning things would be better. It's brown granules you mix in warm water and then pour the mixture down the drain; in my case, the garbage disposal. It says to wait six hours and repeat if necessary. So I did it last night, this morning, and this afternoon. I think there may be a slight difference. I'll do it once more before I go to bed. Hopefully by morning it will be open. But then again, who knows?

If it works, it's a lot easier than going up on the roof and putting a "snake" down the drain. I cannot do this myself because the snake is a heavy and awkward thing that I cannot lift, let alone carry up a ladder to the roof (and down again).

Some days . . .