Monday, June 22, 2009

Never a Dull Moment

Anyone who knows me well knows that I suffer from a chronic inability to sleep through the night. I am basically a colicky 6 week old in a 33 year old's body. I wake at the slightest sound/movement/feeling. I have dreams that would make the Dream Doctor himself run the other direction.

What is my point?

My point is that last night I woke up to the oddest scraping noise. My first reaction was, "It's a mouse." I thought about waking Cory up, but didn't see the point since the mouse would only run off as soon as it heard us approaching. Instead, I opted to lie in bed and further dissect the situation. The noise was not a typical mouse noise (please don't ask how I know this), but there was no other good explanation.

Finally, the noise subsided and I fell back into fitful slumber.

This morning, I noticed that an ant trap (seriously, please, don't ask) that is normally near our front door was in a new location, in the kitchen. I spoke with my mom and shared my fears - that an abnormally playful and dexterous mouse had frolicked through the house David Beckham-style, in the midnight hour, sliding the ant trap a good 30 feet into the next room.

She assured me that no mouse in its right mind would waste a perfectly good evening in a perfectly good house - especially one with foil-wrapped cookies on the counter - engaging in such nonsense. Plus, it's Summer! Mice don't typically retreat indoors in June.

I went on my merry way and forgot all about the mouse.

Over my lunch of chips and guacamole I noticed the loveliest view from my seat at the island.

I think I'll sit there more often for lunch.

Later, still forgetting about the mouse, I chopped some veggies for dinner and decided to take a picture because 1. I am all about photographing veggies and 2. I wanted to initiate my new bowl from HomeGoods into this nonsensical hobby (see #1) of mine.

At some point, during my chopping and stirring, Calvin ran in from playing in the other room and asked, with a certain air of calm, "Mommy, do you see that mess?"

"Yes." I replied, absentmindedly. I wasn't exactly sure which mess he was referring to, but there were several in my line of vision, so I assumed I was covered.

"No", he said, "Do you see that mess? By the door?"

I glanced over, roughly 6.5 feet away, to see a chunky mouse sitting contentedly on the floor, making direct and meaningful eye contact.

Now, I'm no stranger to mice, but I squealed and hopped up on the counter, all the same. You may not be aware of the attraction wild animals have to me, but it is well documented here. There was also the time, 5 years ago, when I awoke from a Winter's nap in my childhood bedroom to a mouse perched atop my clavicle.

My entire life, my mom and dad have told me that mice and the like are more afraid of me than I am of them. And I believed them!

Not anymore. I knew for a fact that the mouse was heading straight for my flip-flop-clad feet. It wasn't a risk I was willing to take.

A chase ensued between the mouse and the men of the house. Ruby consoled me, saying, "It's OK, Mommy! He's a cute mousey!"

At last, he was captured.

And thrown to the wolves, er, cats. I won't even go into that.

The moral of the story: Mice are more afraid of you than you are of them. They are, however, infinitely less afraid of me than I am of them.

Count yourself blessed.

And for those of you who made it all the way through this post, I have a gift: