I assumed I'd put too much sherry in the trifle. Again.
Still, I watched him finish unloading the dishwasher from a safe distance. Once it was empty it was obvious there was no mouse.
"A mouse cannot get into the dishwasher," I told him. "The warmer drawer of the oven, most certainly yes, but not the dishwasher."
There was a mouse, he insisted.
"It was right here," he said, stabbing his finger at the bottom right hand corner of the dish drawer, where there still, patently, was no mouse. I made a mental note; less sherry, more fruit juice.
Two days later I went to put my cup in the dishwasher and there it was. A small grey mouse cavorting on the plates. It looked up, guiltily, then dived under the cutlery rack. Now it was me frantically unloading the appliance. Not that I had a clue what to do if I located the rodent.
There wasn't one. Once the dishwasher was empty there was no evidence of a mouse, or a place where a mouse might have gone. How? Surely dishwashers are watertight? And a mouse is more, well, solid than water?
I replaced the dirty dishes, threw in two dishwasher tablets for good measure and ran it through a heavy duty wash. Twice. That should get rid of any rodenty footprints, I thought, and scare the mouse away.
It didn't.
The next lunchtime I'd made scones and was putting the mixing bowl in the washer and ... mouse. Just sitting there looking at me like, "do you mind? I was just helping myself to potato off this fork."
Then he jumped down and was gone.
That was it. This was completely unacceptable. Nobody had a mouse in their dishwasher.
I set a trap. I'm guessing not many people have a mousetrap in their dishwasher either, but needs must.
An hour went by and I peeked in. No mouse, trapped or otherwise. Another hour, nothing. A couple more hours and - voila - there it was in the mousetrap. My happy/grossed out dance was halted by just one thing.
There was another mouse, sitting on a coffee mug, looking at me.
We didn't have a mouse in our dishwasher, we had mice. Hubby suggested we name them Fischer, and Paykel. I'm thinking more of dragging the daughter's loud cat from the feijoa tree and stuffing him in the top dishwasher drawer for a day or two. Or maybe I'll just move into the chookhouse with Mrs Hedgehog and the triplets.
There's still a mousetrap in my dishwasher. Someone please tell me it's not just me?
-Rachel Wise is a lifestyle block owner and community newspapers editor.
-Eva Bradley is taking a break. Her column will return on January 16.
