I was going to write something interesting today.  But instead we caught the mouse.  So now I can’t think properly because whenever I sit down, I feel something running over my bare feet.  And imaginary mice running over your feet do not make for ideal writing conditions.

I spent the whole morning disinfecting the downstairs, in hopes that the mouse was the only mouse and now it would remain clean and ick-free.  (Mrs. Spit is so depressing when you email her to report that you’ve caught the mouse.  She’s all like “oh, Jen, you know that probably wasn’t the only mouse, right?”  I totally am going to mail her a mouse if I catch another one.)  (Also, if you threaten her with that, she immediately calls you on the phone and starts shouting that you are not allowed to mail her a mouse.)  (I’m expecting another call any minute now.)

Now, does anyone find it as ironic as I do that I have spent weeks trying to capture this mouse and remove it from my immediate vicinity and this morning I put fresh blueberries outside the window for a chipmunk?