Sweet Mother Of God

So in retrospect, that squeaking I heard when I entered my house through the dark back door entrance tonight, that I thought sounded like a mouse... was. The scary thing is that he's been sitting in that damned back hall waiting for me to let him up into the house since I got home hours ago. I'm sure he just followed me right in.

Luckily I must have opened the door to the basement too swiftly and perhaps the jingle jangle of my door knob bells startled the little bastard because he went scurrying down the stairs and, I assume, over the edge and under. I screamed like a little girl and slammed the door shut again. Then I opened it again and stood wide eyed waiting for the next move.

After all I was just starting to pack for my Thanksgiving trip and I have stuff and things in the basement that I need. And where the hell did he go anyhow? Where the crap is he now? Is he hiding in my jeans or eating through the side of my suitcase?

I'm so beyond upset about this whole situation. I can't pack. I can't sleep. All the lights in my house are on. Does that help? And I found things to stuff in door cracks and over open vents to the basement that I hope he can't eat through. I hope. But how does one feel safe in her own home after being violated so?

I'm really excited to get the crap out of this hell hole for a few days. Who is going to catch this mouse for me while I'm gone?

Comments

  1. I always screamed when I saw the mouse in our house too. Magoo thought it was funny.

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