(Yes, I'm breaking a nearly two-month blogging hiatus with a post about a mouse.)
Ahem, as I was saying,
Dear Little Mousie that fell out of my kitchen cabinet this morning,
I don't know who you think you are, or how you got in there. We run a clean establishment around here. But I'm issuing a cease and desist order right now.
I did not appreciate it when you very nearly gave me a heart attack this morning, falling out of my high cabinet and scurrying across the floor that way.
Why can't you just meander peacefully across the floor? It isn't so much YOU I'm frightened of, it's your scurrying-ness. You STARTLE me.
There is a difference, you know.
So, here is the deal. I am offering amnesty, good for one day only. If you leave the way you came, and inform your little mousie friends that the Turner house is not one to be reckoned with, I will let you go on your merry mousie way. No questions asked.
If you refuse, be forewarned that I went to Walmart this morning and stocked up on an arsenal of mouse-fighting devices. I will come at you with a quickness. You will not know what hit you.
(I would make a GREAT Dread Pirate Roberts, by the way, little mousie. Just so you know.)
Furthermore, be advised that I will be sending you a bill for the lunch money I had to give Anna Marie today (because packing her lunch would have meant opening the refrigerator, the same appliance behind which you were lurking); the $5 worth of wooden and glue traps, along with the $2 in peanut butter to bait them with, that I had to buy this morning; and the $7 for the shirt I bought on clearance, just to make myself feel better. Because I totally wouldn't have bought THAT if you hadn't traumatized me so.
Also, I will be sending a bill for whatever we eat out for dinner, because I am totally not cooking in that kitchen while you're still around.
For your convenience, I accept cash, credit cards, and PayPal. I've been burned by too many rodents in the past, so please, no checks.
Sincerely,
Melissa
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