It's been a couple weeks now since that sighting of the nasty mouse. I had myself almost convinced that maybe there weren't any in the house anymore.
We'd seen nothin', the mouse sensor thingys (that's the technical term) never went off, and every daggone trap was empty.
I pep talked myself these last few weeks. Now if you see one of them, you're going to git it. You WILL bludgeon it to death. I don't care if it's with your shoe. 'Cause you want your house back. And you're dang mad. You'll act like a man.
Well, I stood in my kitchen tonight, minding my own business, chopping up my ceasar salad, when I saw one peak it's nasty little head around my oven. And I acted.
Now keep in mind I cain't scream like a girl. All girls ought to be blessed with this talent, but I don't know how. So instead:
"Oh ma gosh oh ma gosh! THERE'S A MOUSE! Get it Jeffrey! Get it! GET IT JEFFREY!"
Oh, and he didn't get it, by the way. It slipped through the smallest hole known to man.
And I stood in the corner, frozen, kneading my hands in terror. Yep. Just like a man.