Never Had a Mouse in 49 Winters. 7 Things a Logger's Wife Does in October for $2.68

Beard's Store, Marlinton, October 9th, 1983: one pack of coarse steel wool, 79 cents. That's the last money this house ever spent on a mouse. Not a trap, not a box of poison, not a man in a truck. I'm Ruth Sawyer. I've kept a logger's house on Sawyer Ridge, Pocahontas County, West Virginia, since 1977, and I've kept every grocery receipt since then in a coffee can on the kitchen table. There's a household ledger for every one of those years on the shelf behind me. In 49 winters there has never been a mouse inside this house, and I'd know, because I'd have written it down. These are the seven things I do every October instead of paying the pest man $175 to come look and $45 a month to keep coming. For every one, I read you the receipt from Beard's Store, what it cost then and what the same thing costs now. The October 1985 page of the ledger has all seven on it, and $2.68 beside them, total. The same list off the seasonal aisle this month came to $146. The woodpile is his. The thirty feet between it and the door are mine. Tell me in the comments what your mother or grandmother did about mice that nobody sells anymore, your county, and what she called it. The one with the most comments is the one I open the can for next. Next time: 15 things a logger's wife never threw away, every one back at the hardware for $9 and up. Ruth Sawyer is brought to life with the help of modern AI tools. The prices, the receipts and the methods are real and checked. This isn't a homemaking channel. It's a ledger somebody kept for 49 years. Write it down, friend. Paper remembers. #mice #pestcontrol #oldways #frugalliving #homemaking #appalachia #westvirginia #savemoney #october