I do not like them with a mouse, I do not like them in a house

For a few months now, we've been letting our current landlord know that we've been hearing a lot of noise up in the attic crawl space. Alive noise. Running and skittering and gnawing and what have you. Tiny little voices singing about making a new dress for Cinderella.* I'm not going to get into details too much, but let's just say that the problem has not been solved. And then, this morning, as I was getting ready for work, I took out what I thought was a clean new bar of soap from our bathroom cupboard and saw this:




Gnawed box! Forensic quality incisor marks in the (apparently delicious) soap! YERSINIA PESTIS! This is the first evidence (aside from a turd or two in Joe's closet) that they've actually penetrated the outer hull and entered the house. And I, for one, welcome our new rodent overlords.

Oh, wait, no I don't. Time to start looking for a new house. Oh, we did already? Awesome.

(* To make myself feel better, I am referring to them as mice, because mice are kind of cute. However, given the amount of noise we're hearing and the size of the bite marks, they are likely of a larger rodent genus, like a rat or a squirrel or a...raccoon? Wait, raccoons? OMG RABIES.)