The Mouse-Pee Stove

My mother is a saint. I called to ask her if we could come over for dinner since I didn't think we'd have a working stove by evening. After calling about replacement parts for the broken stove and discovering that it would take no less than $160 to fix it, I had gone out to try to clean out the mouse-pee stove. When I opened the top up, revealing the pee and poop littered insulation, the smell hit, and I started gagging. When she heard about by gagging troubles, Mom offered to come out and give it a go herself.

I was eating a snack when she showed up, so I just watched and let her dive in. As she was yanking out the insulation, I saw something. "Baby mouse," I said. She jumped back like an alligator was snapping at her arm. "Is it alive?" (The horror in her voice doesn't translate in type.) "No," I said laughing (I know... It's not very nice to laugh at a saint.) and took a closer look. The three pinkies were clearly shriveled, and I plucked them out and dropped them into the trash can.

Having finished my snack, I grabbed the shop-vac to help speed up the process. Mom stepped back, and I started sucking up poo-pellets and insulation. After a moment, I caught a glimpse of something else, and startled, I yelled and jumped back like an alligator was after my arm. Three more pinkies nestled in the insulation had been exposed, and these looked fresh. (No, I did not squeal like a school girl. At least I have that to soothe my pride.) We had another good laugh, shook the willies off, then I sucked them up with the shop-vac as fast as I could.

After Mom had gone back home, I tore apart the other stove, cut out some clean insulation, and installed it into the mouse-pee stove. Our neighbor had left his furniture dolly for us to use while we tried to resolve our stove fiasco, so feeling empowered, I decided to see if I could move it back into the trailer. Thankfully, Reanna was there to help steady and lift, and we managed to get it up the porch stairs and into the kitchen. We are women. Hear us roar.

Today, my back is a little sore, but we have a working, non-stinking stove. And I shall forever call it the mouse-pee stove. Which is gross, but I can't help myself.