~didn’t snow; daughter comes running out of bedroom yelling “mommmmmmm!! There’s a mouse in my t-shirt drawer!” I know, right?
(By the time all was said and done, the little bastard had traversed EVERY drawer in her ten-drawer dresser, run through her bedroom and holed up in the Barbie jeep in the bowels of her closet. After much drama and brou-ha-ha the little s**t was happily ensconced in two dog towels and stuffed, nicely, into the mop bucket at which time he was transported to the front yard where he promptly ran underneath the porch. Really. Under the damn porch. As he scurried away, limping on a bum right hind leg mind you–remember this for later–I ever so sweetly told him that he better not show his little mug inside my house again.)
And it’s only Monday. Morning no less. Before I’d even been able to finish the first cup of coffee. Needless to say, this set the tone for the week.
Later in the day, the dear husband returned home from work. Not questioning the stack of ten empty dresser drawers in the hallway, nor the PILES of clothes in the laundry room, he went blithely about his business. Until I pointed out the dressers in the hallway and the overflowing laundry room at which point he, ever so sweetly mind you, asked what was going on. I launched into the blow-by-blow description of the morning’s events, culminating with the humane release of the little bastard back to the wild. When the dear husband asked where I’d liberated the rodent, I realized I might have made an unforced error. Unforced mind you as I was still in pajamas, with slippers on, without finishing my first cup of coffee. Nothing was right in my world mind you. I, ever so sweetly, replied that he may have, just might have, possibly, probably run under the front porch. I got the look. You know the one. The one that’s between an eye roll (which he knows he should NEVER do in front of me) and an incredulous eyebrow raise. Meaning, in plain King’s English, “WHAT IN THE SAM HELL WERE YOU THINKING??????”
Then I mentioned the bum right leg. And the dear husband got sort of quiet. And said, “oh.” More silence. I said, “yes??” He said, “well.” I said, “yes??” He sort of cleared his throat, and looked as contrite as my dear husband is capable of looking, and said, “well, I actually caught a mouse in the laundry room last night that was caught by his leg.” I just looked at him, endearingly, questioningly. And he continued, again, sort of contritely, “I let him go out in the back yard.” “Ahhh,” I said. And then I continued, “what leg was he caught by?” My husband, pardon me, my “dear” husband: “well, it was his right hind.” “Oh,” I said. “Hmmm.” Then I decided to be nice and not give him back the look that meant, in plain ol’ King’s English, “WHAT IN THE SAM HELL WERE YOU THINKING?” All I said, ever so sweetly, was “hmmm, that mouse sure didn’t learn his lesson.”
And that was just Monday.
Still didn’t snow. Did LOTS more laundry (not done yet).
Found mouse poop (LOTS) in the drawer underneath the stove. On my baking pans. Really.
I was NOT happy. To say the least. The dear husband washed the pots and pans and baking sheets while I scrubbed out the drawer and underneath the stove. That was gross. And I pride myself on a clean house. It was humbling.
Still didn’t snow.
Still doing LOTS of laundry. Where did she get all of these clothes??????
Dear husband announced, albeit quietly because dear daughter thought the cute little mouse in her tshirt drawer with the bum leg was oh so cute, he’d caught a mouse with a bum leg in a trap in the laundry room. “Right hind?” I asked. “Yup,” he said.
Case of The Mouse with the Bum Right Hind Leg closed. May the little bastard rest in peace.
Still didn’t snow.
Finally done with dear daughter’s laundry. Only to begin on husband’s, albeit without mouse tracks.
SKI DAY!!!!!!!!!!!!! Good snow. Sunshine. Not too cold. But mountain overrun with what seem to be aliens from another planet. (Please forgive me any native Nebraskans, I do not mean to offend.) In reality, they were simply people from another state. Nebraska to be specific. And it’s just a mite bit scary, well, downright terrifying truth be told, to share the slopes with the divebombers from out east. Enough said. We didn’t stay long.
Still no snow. Just a lot of sun.
Dear husband called from doctor’s office with the lovely news that the latest hernia repair may have to be repaired. Really. Not kidding. Now isn’t that special? We’ll just have to cross that bridge in a couple of weeks. Not going to think about it right now.
No more mice. That’s something positive, right?
Happy Valentine’s Day. What do you get for a man who has EVERYTHING and who just doesn’t get the whole Hallmark thing?
Ahhhh, it’s coming to me now. His very own Baconcone tree! (Like pinecones, but not. Get it??) I thought it was priceless. It didn’t go over very well, and needed lots of ‘splaining. So it lost a little bit on the translation. But a girl can try, right?
And, in case you think I’m complaining for no reason about the lack of snow, I’m sending pictures I took just this morning of the view from the porch. NOT pretty I tell you. Not pretty. We should have about 4 feet of snow on the ground at this point. It should NOT look like April out there. Too depressing for words. This is akin to looking at my used-to-be-gorgeous flower garden after the myriad of rodents had their way.
See the blue and red electric cords? Those are for the Christmas lights. Those are usually buried so deep you can’t see ANY trace of them until about April. I’m not kidding. See all that grass exposed in front of the barn? Not supposed to see any of that til April. It’s bad here. Really bad.
And on that note, I’m off to be productive on this Sunday morning.