One of my biggest stress relievers is to sit in front of the computer and write a (sometimes) funny story to share. Lately, I've been distracted, hence a distinct lack of blog posts and creative writing time. This makes me grumpy. Very grumpy indeed.
The truth of the matter is, I've been taken over by mice. I've discovered they are pretty much everywhere in our house - and why wouldn't they be? They hit the mother load when they crashed my crib.
I can practically hear them squeaking to each other "Yeah man, this place is like totally awesome dude. There's candy on the floor, and they even serve up peanut butter on a platter EVERY night!" Okay, nobody except me really talks like that anymore - they're probably saying something way cooler.
Those who know me know that when I was born, I was not blessed with a 'keep a clean house' gene. I've had to work very hard at this, and I will admit that my efforts have been lacking this past week for fear of encountering Speedy Gonzales. Even as I type I'm sitting on my knees - not because I have some fancy chair - but because who knows what could run up my leg at any moment.
My fears are legitimate. The other day, I was sitting on the toilet when I noticed something odd in the garbage beside me. Let's just say it was a good thing I was on the toilet. I immediately started to scream, pulled up my pants, grabbed the garbage can and made a beeline for the back door. One of the kids had thoughtfully decided to lock it . . . so there I am, garbage can in one hand, trying desperately to unlock the door and screaming bloody hell all at the same time. The kids thought it was awesome. It must have made quite the impression on Ben, because later that day he brought me a beer - already opened and half drank, but hey, it's the thought that counts. Just FYI - no, I don't normally allow my 5 year old to consume beer even though he loves it. Unfortunately that day I had forgotten to lock the door earlier and he helped himself.
That night I saw one run into my closet. I haven't set foot in there yet. I moved in with Elizabeth upstairs and have been letting the kids pick my clothes each day. I can see they will be very helpful when I get old and am unable to care for myself - although I do hope their color coordination improves a tad.
Fortunately, this has been a great learning experience for the kids, and they aren't traumatized one bit by having to get rid of the dead ones on my behalf. They actually kind of get a kick out of pretending to be the mouse right before the trap snaps, and have even gotten the snapped neck look almost perfected.
Sigh. My knees are getting sore. Hopefully this little problem will be just a memory by the end of the weekend and I'll be back to writing again soon. If it's not, I can only hope the exterminator will be sexy ;)
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