Executionary Adventures

So yesterday I saw a mouse in my kitchen. I thought I saw something move out of the corner of my eye, but then I told myself it was my hair. As I continued making my breakfast, I saw it move again, out of the corner of the other eye. And so I went on an explore and moved some things around and scared the bejesus out of Fieval, my new roommate.

I called my parents, poor things, to tell them of the scary!!! Mom asked me what the mouse was doing when I saw it, and I said, "Running away from me." Then she asked what I was doing, and I said, "Running away from him."

Several things happened after that.
1) I went to talk to the building manager. From whom I have not heard. I am going to call the building management people tomorrow.
2) I used the internetz to ask for advice. Some of the advice was sympathetic, some of it was helpful, and some of it was a Youtube link to "Somewhere Out There." Fucking. Super.
3) I saw the mouse again. He is taunting me, I think. Like, RIGHT beside my computer in the living room, he comes out to say, "Bah ha ha. I am very small. And I am looking for my family. Have you seen them?"
4) I went to Home Depot and bought an electric trap to catch and kill him. Theoretically, it is humane. Pragmatically, it is in my kitchen. Simmering, battery-fueled death.

Or so I thought.

I may or may not have set the trap correctly. I think Fieval is in there right now, eating peanut butter conveniently provided for him by his new favorite roommate. Seriously. I was in the kitchen, you know, doing whatever the hell you do in kitchens, and I saw him, I think. WALKING INTO THE TRAP AND THEN WALKING BACK OUT OF IT.

I am, in fact, the worst executioner ever. And balls if I'm gonna go in there and check for mice in the trap.

BALLS, I say.