That Rustling Sound Under the Sink

A post by @jerrytsuseer reminded me of an incident from the early days of my marriage. We were married in Montana on a Tuesday, went on a week-long honeymoon to Glacier National Park, and then drove a U-haul truck across the country for 2 1/2 days, arriving at our new home in Minnesota late on a Friday night. One of my husband's co-workers helped us empty the truck on Saturday, and on Sunday we visited a local church and then drove around the area a little bit so I could get the feel of where we lived. On Monday morning my husband left for work and was out of town until Friday evening.

It was fun to start unpacking my belongings and setting things up in our very own (rented) home, but then nighttime came and I had to sleep all alone in a barely-familiar house, not even knowing any of the neighbors. And I heard strange noises. It was a rustling sound, and it came from the direction of the kitchen, which was 'way down the hall from the bedroom. I was too scared to investigate. There was a phone in the bedroom, so, in desperation, I called the pastor of the church we had visited; his number was in the church bulletin I had brought home. He was very kind, and talked with me until I calmed down, and stayed on the phone with me while I crept out to the kitchen to investigate the noises. Sure enough, there were mice under the sink!

Once I knew the source of the noises, I wasn't as scared. I was able to go to sleep after a while, and the next day I am sure I bought mouse traps. And before long I got a cat.