Thursday, July 13, 2006

Miss Mousie, Miss Mousie

I live in the country. This necessitates a certain level of comfort with cohabitating with critters. In particular, mice.

Now, I am not usually frightened at the sight or sound of mice. I understand that I am about a thousand times bigger than they are, that they are more scared of me than I am of them, etc. etc. I have watched mice run across the floors in my house. I have listened to them crawling through the walls. I am aware that they are a fact of country life to some degree. However.

I was out in the kitchen getting the dishwasher ready to run. Yesterday I emptied the trash, and I wanted to wash the top of the trash can, so I had it on the floor by the sink. Never got 'round to washing it, so it was still there. To get under the sink to get the Cascade, I had to move it. When I did, a critter ran out from under it. I mean, I was about four inches from the thing.

So I yelled. More correctly, I made a noise somewhere between a yell and a moan: "uuuuuUUUUUUUuuuuuuuHHHHHHHHHHH" and started dancing around the kitchen while the mouse skittered around the corner. I stopped dancing, and then I saw it peeking back out to see if it could come back. So I started stomping really loud while looking around for something to hit it with. (didn't see anything handy) Then I climbed up on the washing machine so it wouldn't get me. (I'm pretty sure this was my reason....I don't remember actually thinking much about it, just getting my butt up there.)

When I started stomping the mouse decided to vacate until a later time, so it headed across the dining room and under the hutch, where there is a gap between the floor and the wall (I really need to get that fixed. soon. very, VERY soon.).

Meanwhile, Kira appears in the doorway between the dining room and the living room, and looks in to see me perched up on the washing machine. Now comes the part I am not proud to admit. (well, I'm not too proud of any of this, really, but this next part is REALLY bad.)

I had Kira come in and get me.

She stomped loudly across the dining room floor, grabbed her little kid-size mop, and guarded me while I finished getting the dishwasher ready to run and got the hell out of there.

NOT one of my better Mom-moments.

No comments: