Hey, hey, hey . . . it’s Monday. I could say something about how I can’t believe it’s here already and where did the weekend go but that would be redundant since Monday . . . well, Monday. My weekend was good and full of the usual weekend things: good food and drink, time with Dale, relaxing outside, reading both inside and outside, a really fun photo shoot, and some gardening. My weekend also included one very unusual thing and that’s what I’m going to tell you about today.
To set the scene: Saturday morning in my kitchen. I’m tidying up a bit and getting ready to do some journaling. As part of this tidying up I went to put my knitting bag in my pocketbook. My pocketbook hangs on a hook on a coat rack in the back corner of our kitchen and as I reached up and put the bag in there a mouse scampered across the ledge at the top of the coat rack. A rather large mouse. Of course I jumped and shrieked like a little girl and dashed across the kitchen. It’s not that I’m afraid of mice, exactly, it’s more that they are fast and generally startle me with their unexpected appearance. Well. And they are rodents.
I make a phone call to Dale, who is out, and tell him it’s time to set up the mouse traps again since, clearly, they aren’t completely gone. (Did I tell you our final death toll last month was 15? Yes. 15 mice. IN my HOUSE.)
I settle down to finish my journaling.
I read outside for a bit.
I eat lunch.
Dale comes home.
I pack my camera bag and prepare to leave for my photo shoot.
So. Because I have my camera bag I don’t actually need my pocketbook but I do need the blue zippered pouch that’s in my pocketbook as it contains my driver’s license and debit card and some cash. I take my pocketbook down off the hook and put it on the kitchen table. I reach in for the zippered pouch (have you figured out yet where this is going?) and the mouse comes jumping out of my pocketbook!
And as she jumps onto the kitchen table and then takes off across the kitchen I look into my bag and I see baby mice.
Let me repeat that: baby mice. IN my POCKETBOOK!
And I lose it and I run RUN across the kitchen. That would have been fine if I hadn’t been wearing flip flops. Running in flip flops? NOT a good idea. So I trip and I fall (by this time I’m in the dining room) and I land on my hands and knees. Ouch.
I haul myself up and I dash outside where Dale is mowing the lawn. He sees my face and shuts off the lawn mower and looks at me quizzically and I say . . . wait for it . . .
I know where the mouse is.
The rest of the story doesn’t end so well for those 5 baby mice. Or the mother. I won’t go into details, I’ll just say that I left for my photo shoot and when I got back they . . . weren’t here anymore.
It’s going to be a long ass time before I can reach into my pocketbook without flinching.