Made in Richmond

This evening I walked into the kitchen to prepare myself a much anticipated peanut butter sandwich, and I saw a teeny tiny brown mouse scurrying along the edge of our counter and disappearing behind our fridge. I have never come upon an unexpected live mouse. I’ve come across dead ones at school all the time. They like to hide in the book closet and make superman leaps off of the shelves. They rarely survive this stunt, and I frequently find them lying spread eagle in the middle of the floor. My reaction to this is usually “ew” and then I go get Pyramus, the custodian, and he sweeps them up into the dustbin and does whatever it is you do with dead mice. Anyway, I’ve always wondered what my reaction would be to a not-dead mouse. Well, it turns out that I simply make a series of unintelligible squeals and whines until I have gotten the icky feeling out of my system. After my semi-fit, I bravely got the flashlight and looked behind the fridge-but to no avail. It seems the critter escaped through one of the many holes tucked away in the corners of our Swiss-cheeseque house. Needless to say, we will be picking up some mouse traps tomorrow. I’m sure there will be many pictures to follow showing the spoils of that adventure.