So I'm getting ready to go to bed, when S pops his head in the room.
"Uh... We have a visitor."
"I'm sorry, what?", I reply, completely panicked, because a> It's 10:00 at night and everyone we know is in bed (yeah, we're old/boring) and b> I immediately think of the worst case scenario ("OMG, someone died/was in an accident/did something horrible that affects us in some way, and we need to know like RIGHTTHISVERYSECOND! TIME TO FREAK OUT!")
Ends up, this "visitor" is about the size of a small potato and has taken up residence under our fridge. No, it's not a cockroach (THANK GOD, cuz I would seriously hightail it out of that place SO DAMN FAST you wouldn't even be able to say "Blattodephobia". Screw your 60 days notice, landlord, THERE ARE GIANT NASTY BUGS INFESTING MY HOME! I MUST FLEE IN TERROR! And I mean, OMG, how nasty would a cockroach the size of a potato be, eh? GAWD, I shudder at the thought ... But I digress).
Nope, it's a freakin' mouse.
I mean it's better than cockroaches, but dude, you know there's not just one. Mickey doesn't travel alone. You know he's likely been here before and has told all his little rodent friends "HEY! You wanna know where you can get all the Cheerios you can eat? They leave them on the GROUND and everything! And sometimes they leave all sorts of other crap just LYING AROUND for a whole day! Goldfish crackers, mini muffins, small bits of meat... It's like they throw it on the floor just for us!" (Goddamn messy husbands, and their obsession with throwing their dinner on the floor ;) I CANNOT KEEP UP WITH HIS SLOVENLINESS!).
So I tear downstairs and both of us get swiffers and plastic containers and flashlights and tear apart the kitchen in an effort to trap the animal. Which we don't, because he like MOVES with the fridge and out of the way of the swiffer. Must be one of those ultra-intelligent mice that want to control the universe or something. Because I mean really.... Fishing around under your fridge with a stick, hoping he'll scurry out and into your Glad sandwich container is THE most smartest way to trap a mouse, n'est-ce pas?
Oh, and where was our trusty CAT, you ask? Staring out the window, of course. Stupid, good-for-nothing piece of crap! THIS IS YOUR JOB, DUMBASS!
So, yeah, after yelling at the cat for 3 minutes and gettin' her all good and skittish, we gave up and went to bed.
Meh, he knows the way out.