Houston, We Have a (Mouse) Problem

OK. I don’t obviously live in Houston, but still.

I’ve been finding droppings along my sink in my little basement beach apartment, I call The Hideaway.

Of course, when I see that, I start to freak out.

I do not like mice.

Ever since my dad would fish dead ones out of the pool we had on Dennett Street.

Every since one ran over my bare feet in my Prospect Heights studio. 

And now, I saw one tonight.

I came back from my date and was having a little snack and I saw a sliver of a body. Then, a few minutes later, I saw the entire, little, gross thing, going straight for the Grape Nuts. I don’t blame them for trying – I opened the box weird and there are a lot of loose ones outside the bag. That is going in the trash tomorrow. When it’s light out and the mice are hopefully in their little dens, wherever they hang out.

Ugh.

There is an exterminator scheduled to come tomorrow. So hopefully the problem will be rectified soon. Last night Lou was flipping out. She just was not having it.

ME EITHER.