A Mouse in the House

Okay maybe I conveniently ignored that my popcorn bag had been ripped into shreds and the kernels eaten and other presents left there in return.

Okay maybe we weren't hallucinating when we heard scrambling bodies in the wall.

Okay maybe I live in a renovated house, but there's still holes in the wall.

Okay maybe my underwear drawer and my food drawer are next to each other and closest to the wall.

Okay maybe I was in denial.

But when I heard my drawer rattling this morning (after sleeping in another room), I did not hesitate.  I grabbed Vageesha, a Buddhist from Sri Lanka, and sure enough there was a small brown mouse in my live trap.  Alright, now I can freely admit there was a mouse (or mice) living under my bed.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not a filthy person. Anything but.  But when there's a hole in the wall, what do you do?  You find a bunch of guys to set a live mouse trap because I think it was awfully gross and mean to see a poor little mouseys neck broken (as it was in Aaron's room and subsequently what he was trying to convince me to do).

And please do not think that Pearson College has mice in every room.  We absolutely do not.  I can only think of 2 out of 50 rooms that have.  Still it sucks.

I guess that's what happens when you live in the forest.

Sigh.

Yours mousily,

Emmy