Writing the last chapter of the mouse saga

Yesterday I'd had an hour's sleep, and my students were unenthused by the material so we played categorical syllogism mad libs and then I told them about my mouse problem and one of my veteran lawyer students said, "If you have a lease, on paper, and there are more than three units in your dwelling, then there should be a clause in your lease stating that the landlord has to take care of vermin on the premises. If they refuse, call the department of sanitation."

I called the landlord; the exterminator came today.

Here is some other mouse advice I have received:

"Mary, you gotta put steel wool in those holes. That's what my mom used to do. Just pack it in. Mice don't like it. Cuts 'em."

"Have you set/reset the mouse traps? They work well as long as you change the bait after you catch one. So peanut butter one day, then cheese, then a chocalate chip, then jam...I don't know how many rotations you have to do before you cycle back to the first bait - maybe 4? Because after all, mice are small and how long can their collective memory be?"

"Hmm, mice. There's only a couple pieces of advice I can give about mice. 1. There's an endless supply of them, they're like a running river. It's not about killing you're share and then being rid of them, it's about how high your levee is. 2. Play to their weakness. I also found that you have to apply your peanut butter or cheese whiz sparingly on the trap. If it's bulky they will eat the excess and leave. And, although curious, they're harmless, go to sleep. They won't come and lay eggs in your ear or anything. I can imagine the feeling though and why you were awake. Did it feel like this scene from Aliens?"