Tuesday, February 01, 2011

where's the hidden mickey?

in my bathroom apparently.

as i was brushing my teeth yesterday morning, something walked across my foot. it was to heavy to either be a cockroach or a lizard so it was with extreme dread that i turned my head over to the side because i knew what i would see.

a mouse.

and if there's one thing i hate more than frogs, its mice. and rats. ew. ew. ew.

needless to say, i screamed my head off, which wasn't really helpful there being no other living soul inside my house (except mickey, i suppose). the thing scampered inside the bathroom and i scampered to my bedroom where i cowered as i got dressed. i then locked the door to the room and left the bathroom door open. to my (deranged and zombified) mind, the mouse could go anywhere -- like the living room, or the dining room, or the kitchen, or the laundry room (the room formerly known as the maid's room) as long as it would leave the bathroom and stay out of my room.

my officemates said, hey, why don't you get a mouse trap, but i didn't want to go do that cause, well, that would mean i'd have to clean it up after it gets stuck to the mouse trap. and i'd have to see it. and while i'm as "cowboy" and as boyish as they come, mouse clean up isn't one thing i can do very well. my plan of action was to pray, wish for that stray cat to come back to my house, and for the mouse to meet an untimely death one of these days, preferably outside.

however, no matter how strongly i believed in the power of prayer, i knew i would have to take precautions upon entering the house. so, i grabbed my foil (that sword you use when you fence) which was stuck inside the umbrella stand near the front door, and poked the stuff that could be mickey's hiding place inside my bathroom -- the trash can, the basket with the cleaning supplies, behind the pail, and the basket with the toiletries. and when the coast was clear, i resolutely closed the door and prayed mickey was out playing somewhere i'd never set my eyes on.

(i think he's inside the laundry/maid's room now. i heard a bit of scampering in there when i got my laundry -- and yes, i screamed once more and shut the door even more resolutely than i did the bathroom door. he's probably feasting on the bazillions of law school readings i didn't have the heart to throw out previously which, one of these days, i'll get rid of in the interest of making the room less mickey friendly. one of these days, mickey, you too shall die!!!)

in the wake of mickey's invasion, i cleaned my bathroom like i had never cleaned it before, removing every bit of hidden space that mickey might fight enjoyable in the future. it was way past my bedtime when i finally stumbled out of the (sparkling) bathroom. but i don't care. there's no hidden mickey in my tiny sanctuaryand there's no way i'm going to allow him entry ever again.

laundry room, you are next. (of course, with foil in hand still. not like i could stab mickey with it -- or that i'd even want to -- but it helps to feel armed when it comes to these things. forget the fact that i may be a thousand times bigger than mickey. i've got fear on my side, and that's always the best way to lose a battle. even a battle with a mouse.)

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