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City Mouse
There's a mouse in my garage. I met him this morning when I accidentally startled him while starting my car. He jumped about 2 feet off the windowsill upon which he was perched and I let go a gasp of surprise. After that, we stared at each other for a full 60 seconds before he realized his cover had been blown and that while I might not look like a cat, I certainly am no mouse, and you can never be too safe when it comes to creatures you can't easily identify and he took off into the dark recesses of my garage ceiling. I sat staring in horror at the spot where the mouse had been only moments earlier. The mouse itself was actually rather cute, and while I am neither afraid of nor disgusted by small rodents, I was more than dismayed by the discovery of this stowaway in my garage. I feel so...so...dirty. Sure, the mouse isn't in my house (so I should count my blessings). At least not that I'm aware of. But what if this pioneering young mouse in my garage discovers that there's very little food or heat to be had out there and that there's a virtual heat and food extravaganza going on 30 feet away in the "big house?" What if I wake up one day to find Mister Mouse perched daintily over Oliver's dog dish, or worse! Nibbling on a crumb of cheese on the kitchen counter! Do you even know what my reaction would be? Because I certainly do not. I imagine it would involve me hopping onto some kind of chair or table, but what then? Will another stare-down ensue? Will the mouse and I duke it out to determine who the alpha ruler of this house is? Will I win? Because I'm not so sure. He might be little, but he's a fast little bugger and he has some mighty big teeth. So what if I lose the alpha-ruler stare off? Will the mouse get more cocky? Will I find him taking nips from the coconut rum in my cabinet? Will he run off with the remote control? Will he take over my bed? The horror! Life as I've known it has begun to change. I have to go out and buy some D-Con tonight. Don't look at me like that. I know he's just a cute defenseless little mouse, but did you not just read about the potential tragic outcome of this whole situation? He is not meant to live in my buildings! I didn't buy the buildings for him! He lives in, I don't know, holes in the ground or something and I occupy the buildings. This is the way God intended it to be. If I had a dog house, he would be more than welcome to entertain company in that (since Lord knows oliver wouldn't have the foggiest idea what to do with it) but that is not the case and the mouse must be stopped. I prayed that this day would never come. Listening To: Talk Tonight by Oasis Reading: Bad Heir Day by Wendy Holden. Still typical brit chick lit. Nothing much to comment on thus far. Recently Saw: Seventh Heaven last night. Shut. Up. I KNOW it's horrible, but it triggers some switch in my brain and I cannot turn the channel when I know it's on. I sit there for the entire hour with my jaw dropped and my eyes rolling and yet I am incapable of looking away. This was Simon's last show. It was also retarded. I can think of a bajillion and one more heartwarming and appropriate ways to send one of the core characters away from the show - this show just managed to find the most boring and pointless. An entire hour of still photos with some voice over. Whoo-whee. Seriously - the air waves around that show must be tinged with crack or something, it's the only way I can explain the power it has over me. |
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