It is within the serenity of a quiet boat ride down the lake, a long hot shower, or a quiet drive on a beautiful day that my creativity sparks. My mind wanders into the world of imagination and make-believe. Within those moments I pull theses fragmented elaborate thoughts together, document, write, dream, and formulate. The hour glass empties and before I know it 10,000 words are staring me in the face. There in lies the journey and the start of another novel.

Monday, November 7, 2011

Mouse in my House

The evening this event occurred, during the moment it was chaotic, hysterical, and crazy. Afterwards when composure was regained, it was just plain hysterical.  Now a mouse in the garage - OK - but a mouse in my HOUSE - no way!  So here we go...


It was bedtime I was standing at my night stand handling those last minute motions getting ready for bed - one of those being placing my cell phone on the charger - when I saw movement from my peripheral vision.  Unsure what it was I leaned back a bit to see around the edge of the sleigh bed footboard and saw a small mouse flutter across the floor and under the night stand. Oh my gosh! What the heck! In that instant and one fail swoop, I leapt to the bed and began screaming my husband’s name over and over and over again.  I know that as loud as I was yelling that man and everyone on the block heard me, yet he did not come back in from taking the dogs out soon enough.
As he hears my pleas, he steps in from the opposite end of the bathroom with a frustrated, "What are you yelling about?"
"A mouse, there is a mouse in the house," I yell back.
In his continued frustrations and whatever disbelieving tone he proceeds to tell me, "There is no mouse in the house."
"Oh yes there is," I insisted.
"WHERE?" he grumbles.
"Under the armoire," but only seconds later as my husband made his move into the room the mouse darted from under the armoire into the bathroom and behind the door. While it was a flash in the pan movement, it was enough that he finally saw him, "Oh there is a mouse," he says nonchalantly.
I threw myself down backwards on the bed, what the heck, I don't often jump to the middle of the bed screaming and practically hyperventilating.
Proceeding to my rescue as he sashes’ across the room, so does the mouse back towards my bed and into the closet. If I could get a strong hold of the fan blade and raise myself to the ceiling I would have, but instead I stood firm on the bed looking and watching.
Suddenly it hit me, "Do not hurt him", I yelled - what a mess that would be. "Catch him, catch him, and set him free outside."
"Oh yeah right, I'll just catch him, how do you expect I will do that?" and he proceeds to ask me to come down and help him move the stuff from the closet so he can find where the mouse went.  Reluctantly I climb down off the bed and assist moving some things out of the closet, but to both of our surprise there was no mouse in the floor of the closet.
Where did that darn mouse go?  My husband continued to search closely for a hole in the wall as I asked, "Do you think he went to [my daughter's] room."
During his pause he steps back, looking, looking, looking, and finally he quickly grabs a coat hanger and starts swatting at the clothes hanging in the closet.  My eyes refocus as I see the mouse scampering side to side running along the clothes hanging in the closet.
"Oh my Lord! He can climb!" I shouted as I levitated myself back to my safe position on the bed.  From my view I could no longer see into the closet, but I could see the hanger in his hand flying this way and that way.  Yeehaw - here we go!
I yell again, "Don't kill him; I don't want blood on my clothes."
And finally he [my husband] dropped to his knees and grabbed a shoe box, throwing my shoes into the air.
"Not my shoe box", I thought - - - and my view of any action was completely obscured by my husband's back as he leaned into the closet trapping Mr. Mouse into the shoe box.
As he proceeds to advise me to open the door, I hear him say, "Where did you go?"
I was already down the hallway and unlocking the back door, 50 steps ahead of him and that mouse. I slammed the door behind him as he and his mouse in a box exit the premises.
Phew! What a night - - I leaned over the kitchen cabinet regaining my composure and grabbing a cup to get a drink as I hear a quiet little voice behind me, "Mommy, are you ok?"
Laughing hysterically, she proceeds to tell me that she could hear all the commotion from her room and she had snacked on her comforter for fear that the mouse had come into her room.
Needless to say I lost much sleep the next few nights, just waiting for the mouse to return and end up in our bed standing over me, shaking his foot in disappointment for exiling him from the home.

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