We have mice. No, not a pet mice–mice of the unwelcome variety. Car has already slain one with his mighty mousetrap skills. I’m ambivalent about this, because mice aren’t necessarily terrible creatures. In fact, they’re kind of cute. But cute or not, I don’t really want them in my kitchen.
Today I was sitting on the couch and saw movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned to look, and zip! There went a mouse. Zip! Back across the kitchen. The fricking mouse darted across my kitchen about 5 times, at which point I tried to sic Tigger on it. As fantastic a dog as Tigger is, he’s a useless mouser. I need to get some sort of terrier. No, not a cat. I’m horribly allergic. Why would you want me to suffer like that?
When Car got up from his nap, I told him I saw a mouse gallivanting about in our kitchen.
Car: A new mouse?
Me: I certainly hope so. The last thing I want in our house is a zombie mouse.
I’m really glad Car is home. We have awesome conversations.