Well, since our last tally we managed to catch another two mice. I'm not kidding around, what's the deal? Did the mice have a powwow in the middle of the poppy field to vote on our home being the coziest? No offense, I take great pride in my home being comfy and cozy, but I may also sit on the verge of too prideful on it's cleanliness. Perhaps this was God's way of lowering me down a peg or two. The joke is so over though! That sneaky little mouse who darted under my chair and left me so frightened I had to be pulled from the chair was captured. Alive. It's too much for words really. Very uncool. What I wouldn't have given to see the neighbor's cat glowering down on the little invader. All those mouse traps the guys lined the closet with, you know the relay race ones?
Yeah, they worked. Another two mice have bitten the dust. I should have started charging for them. In fact, when I had that very thought while hanging out a load of laundry in the pouring rain (fear not it was under cover!), I began to see mice invading our home because big rats told them to hand over all the food. I know, totally stupid and insane, but I did warn you my imagination works in overdrive.
You see, I start out the day in a semi-normal fashion. Thinking to myself, "Right, the sun may not be up, but that's no excuse to be lazy. GET UP!" Then after that it all goes kinda fuzzy. Maybe because I'm really too tired to be up, but find myself stumbling through the dark fuzziness of early morning light. I'm not entirely sure how it happens but I usually find myself completely dressed in my workout clothes in the dinning room wondering if I'm actually going to workout or if I should just make the kids some fancy breakfast instead.
Which may lead me to wondering if it's even safe to be out of bed because if there are more mice lurking they are known for darting from under the fridge to under the stove. There's a good length of space between them and I'd hate to see one and be stranded on top of the counter until the other occupants of the house wake up. Imagine the embarrassment of your five year old finding you perched upon the counter.
"Mommy, what are you doing?"
"I'm hiding from mice Jayden, but don't worry I'm sure they wont' hurt you!"
"I know they won't hurt me, and if you're really brave they won't hurt you either!"
"I'm not that brave, Jayden. I've tried, I've really tried, but I'm just not that brave."
"I know, and it's SO FUNNY!" which would be followed up with laughter so intense he'd wake the rest of the house. You can bet on it.
While I find myself wondering the implications of my five year old growing up and knowing his mother is terrified of mice, I'm led to think of many other things. Such as why my peppers aren't growing very quickly, or is that man walking down the road really just out for a walk or is he a spy? I'm telling you, my mind does not work in normal ways. I've been known to ask strange questions all for the pure sake of wondering how some absurdly strange incident might workout in a story. Or just for the pure amusement of it...
So that's why mice prevail over me. I'm terrified of them. In fact, not too long ago the tv was on and I overheard the word mouse and I perked up. Not, of course, because I wanted to know anything about mice, but rather because if a celebrities home could be invaded perhaps I could seek some form of comfort knowing that mice care not who you are, but rather what you have to offer them.
Only, this women not only screamed, she had a non-snoring dog who actually attempted to save her from the vermin. That's right, her dog lunged after the nasty creepy crawly and managed to grab it. It was then that said celebrity made her fatal mistake. She screamed for her husband, who came running, and demanded he get the mouse away from the dog. He did. He was bitten. She called the hospital and gave a lengthy explanation so that when he arrived he was greeted as, "The man who was bit by a mouse!"
Oh yes, I may scream and I may demand help from my husband, but I've never ever asked him to pick one up. No, I think if he touched a small gray fur ball that even slightly resembled a mouse I'd have to ask him to disinfect his hands, a few times over.
All I know, is my mice seem to be on the run. We've had two days with no sightings or captures. I'm beginning to think it's safe to clean out the closets the wee beasts made a mess of, but then my mind starts working double time. Are they lurking behind the bag of puffed corn in the pantry? Have the stolen one of the traps and waiting for me to stick my poor little fingers in there so they can catch me?
If I am captured by said mice, how exactly will they get me through the flat spaces they get themselves through? Will I become Flat Kendra, and then have stories written about me like Flat Stanley? Morgan would think I was so cool! Then I'm snapped back into reality by the ever pressing need to actually clean out the closets, but maybe they can wait until tomorrow...