I woke this morning with my robotic routine in gear. After performing the normal hygienic a.m. tasks I found my way to the kitchen where I started coffee, let the dogs out, dropped some dog food in their bowls, then straight to the fish tank where all hell broke loose. I pinched a bit of fish food from the container and from the corner of my eye-movement beneath the fish stand. With a shriek I jumped backward, knocking over a chair. Trying to keep my balance my heel came down hard on a piece of stray dog food (ouch), hopping on one foot I managed to knock over the dogs water. All the while my eyes on the stranger in my home. With a quick look to the left and then the right in search of help-no one. I was alone to deal with this stranger.
Finally, my balance gave out and both feet were once again on the ground. Heroically, I tiptoed over to him, bent down a bit and was staring into the beady brown eyes of who I assumed was NOT Mickey. Not because he was brown, but because his ears were a tad small. I did however have to look twice to ensure myself that he wasn't our long lost hamster-nope.
Anyway, what was I to do. He was lying there all alive and everything, kinda sideways on one of those icky sticky mousetraps. I think he was actually gasping, eeer, not that I was staring or anything. I wondered where this mouse in the sticky trap came from. I wondered how far he could have traveled carrying this thing on his side. Must have been a long ways since he just gave up and was all out of breath lying on my kitchen floor.
Not wanting the kids to witness this awful intruder, I woke my husband who informed me that he had put the trap there the night before-without the (not Mickey) mouse on it, of course. He had told me a couple of weeks prior that he thought we had a mouse, but I just thought he was hallucinating from staying up too late. I was sure that since I was the one who really knew all the ins and outs about the house that I would know for sure if we had a mouse. I was wrong.
Not thinking of him as a bad guy or anything (the mouse, not my husband), I asked my husband if there was possibly a way to peel him from the glue and give him another chance. Just one more chance after all he'd been through. You wouldn't believe the look on my husbands face while he carried the dangling mouse to the back door.
I went upstairs to get ready for work thinking about how a life ended at my home today. Geesh, when I say it that way I feel like a really bad person.
In a few hours we're off to the Circus-Ringling Brothers in Baltimore. I can't wait, although my 8 and 9 year old, and my husband are kind of dreading it. I know once they get there they'll have fun. If nothing more just getting out as a family is all I really care about anyway. Our three year old is psyched, I guess. She's not really sure what a circus is, but I guess it's my reaction that makes her get excited. If I said it JUST RIGHT, I could probably tell her that we were going to fling cow patties and she'd be thrilled by that. You see, for kids that age, all they really hear is 'WE ARE...' and they get excited, and that's good enough for them. Ah, to be young again.
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2 comments:
That was really good Wen I felt like I was in the kitchen with you I would have expected hubby to put the mouse on the seat of the car you were driving to work or maybe that's what I would have done(hahahaha). I think this is good for you to do you give people a real insight to your life (well let's see what you post on a nutso day). Keep it up lil sister I am very proud of you.
I, too, feel bad for the mouse. You'd think someone could've come up with a more humane mousetrap by now.
(By the way, I found your blog through Backspace.)
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