about a mouse

Tuesday, January 14

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Shoes: c/o Windsor {old}, Skirt: ASOS, Top: F21, Sunglasses: F21 

If you would like to know something horrible, we have a mouse living in our stove right now. I've never had a mouse before, but when temperatures dropped to three whole degrees a few days ago, he decided to make our kitchen his home for a little while. The first time we met, I had gone to make myself some hot chocolate. I flipped on the light and saw the smallest flash of fur zoom from under the stove, across the floor and into the corner by our lazy susan.  And he was much too fast to scream or swear or take part in any sort of mouse-induced rituals except for standing on a chair and calling for backup. When Tyson showed up, it zoomed across the floor again and back under the stove, poking his little head out ... just looking at us. And you could tell he was really sizing us up. After a few seconds it must have been determined that we were unworthy opponents, because he left his hiding place and started sniffing around the floor looking for crumbs. Right in front of us! Like the mouse with gumption that he was! And he was the tiniest little thing. And it was cold out and he must be hungry after all. And was I getting a soft spot for the one thing that could actually get in the way of making myself a late night cup of hot chocolate? We collected a few cardboard boxes together. One that was supposed to act as a little mouse-sized step stool, and one that was deep enough to hold him, should he decide to snack on the few shreds of lettuce and goldfish crackers we threw in at the bottom. We waited around for a while, to see if it would work, but in the end, just decided to head to bed. Well that little mouse did not fall for it! He hasn't fallen for any of it for a few days now. And I suppose I don't mind him terribly, except for the fact that a mouse living in my stove is generally pretty gross. And one time when I was cooking on the stove top, he dove from the back of the microwave and underneath one of the burners and I screamed and really hated him for that because NOW he's figured out how to get up on the counters and Everett is banned from the kitchen indefinitely. And so am I, unless I'm wearing my heaviest boots, and have banged around on the table and the fridge and the garbage can a few times, to let him know that he has company and now would not be the best time to get ballsy again.

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