I wake up at 7 AM, hearing a strange sound. Curiosity gets the better of me and I go inspect my traps (one non-harmful and baited, one gluey). No mice. Shit.
Dan came over yesterday and we moved my fridge, the last place of a definite sighting. I checked my kitchen and did what I could to seal up one suspicious crevice with steel wool and duct tape. There were no mice. I had to enjoy a fair number of Jerry Fabin jokes (Charles Freck jokes to fans of the movie), but, again using duct tape and a big sheet of particle board, I created a "door" to my kitchen that mice can't get through, so I'll know -- if I see another mouse in there, it has some way of access I haven't discovered.
The unfortunate effect of this is that I have, it seems, sealed the mouse in here with me. I saw it about 20 minutes ago, running along the threshold of the kitchen entranceway, TOWARDS ME. I jumped, I admit. It responded to my jump: it turned around and ran back behind the TV.
A few seconds later, I saw it scurry behind the radiator. Hoping to drive it into the nearby trap, I threw a DVD case at the radiator, but nothing happened; the mouse appeared to be gone.
Before going over to inspect the area, I put shoes on my bare feet. And so do I sit here, jumpy, wondering where the little fella is.