Kill The Mouse
How many times have you made a situation worse by dragging it out?
You want a certain outcome, you know it is going to happen eventually, but you don’t want to be the bad guy, or the bad girl.
You want to break up with him, but you don’t want to be mean, so you drag it out. You justify it to yourself because you aren’t being really mean (say, a 9 out of 10), you are being less mean (a 5 out of 10), but for a longer period of time. Hoping he gets tired of your consistent “5” and breaks up with you. Whew! Not the bad guy!
Makes sense, right?
You want to say no, but you don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, and end up making it worse.
You don’t want to do the job, but you don’t want to be mean, so you do it, but you do a s****y job. At least you did it, right?
There are so many times in our lives, (and let’s be blunt), because we are pussies, that we make a situation worse by not getting it over with, saying no, saying yes, or walking away.
What the hell does this have to do with a mouse?
Kill The Mouse
We had a rat in our attic, garage, basically everywhere he wanted to go.
Why is it called Kill The Mouse if I had a rat? It’s called marketing. If I called it Kill The Rat I couldn’t use Mickey’s recognizable face. Click bait.
But no mouse, a rat.
We had been leaving poising out for him for months. I even bought a shock box. Basically, you put food at one end, and as it goes in the box to get it, ZAP!! Fried mouse, er, rat.
I wanted this thing dead. I could hear it in the attic, it was getting in to the dog food in the garage, and leaving little rat turds all over the place.
Death to the rat!!!
This is what we want, right? An opportunity to reach our desired outcome. I had been leaving booby-traps for months, hoping to kill this rat in a horrible manner, poison or electrocution, but this would be quicker, faster, and more effective.
I saw him in my driveway in the middle of the day this past weekend.
I could have easily killed it.
He was moving a little slow, and during the day, so you know something was wrong with him.
I had a shovel sitting right there. All I had to do was pick it up and smash that little bastard. Bada-boombada-bing. No more rat.
Here is my chance.
What I have been waiting for.
But do I really want to smash a little rat with a shovel in my driveway? Crush his little brain? Squirt blood all over the place?
Eh. Not really.
Trust me, I felt like such a pussy (being blunt, remember?) during this whole thought process.
What did I do instead of smashing it? I chased him across the street.
I am the girl that is mean instead of just breaking up with the dude.
I am the passive aggressive employee that smiles and makes it look they are going to do it, but they don’t.
Bu I justified it, just like we all do.
No more rat? No more problems. And I didn’t ha