Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Reason #1 I Might Just Hate Being a Grown Up
My dad isn't here to "get rid" of the mouse that wanted to share my coffee with me this morning.
Scenario: Its roughly 6:00 a.m. I've just finished feeding my hungry little man- who- by the way hasn't been able to have a good bowel movement since Saturday. More on that later.
I put Mr. Bubbers (Caderyn) in his crib, hand him my plastic cooking spoon and turn on his mobile.
This is what I do every morning and then I get ready for work.
Stumbling into the kitchen to turn on the coffee pot I see a quick brown streak across the floor and freeze. I have to blink a few times to fully wake myself up before it streaks by again, stopping to look at me this time. ITS A FREAKING MOUSE!
So at about 6:10 a.m. I'm shrieking at the top of my lungs and the mouse disappears.
So now I'm going to be the one stuck at home listening for the trap to snap the life out of the little mouse. NOT SOMETHING I WANT TO DO! I suggested to Jeff that we just get the Cinderella trap. You know, the one from the movie Cinderella where it just traps them alive and then you can take them outside somewhere and let them go or, if you're really into it, dress the mouse up in little outfits and name them Gus. Not my cup of tea, but to each his own!
I don't want the little mouse to die, I just want him to LEAVE FOREVER. Now I'm sitting in my office freaking out about how filthy my house is because of this mouse. All I want to do is go home and BLEACH EVERYTHING and vaccum and scrub until my house sparkles, yes, sparkles.
My dad gets in to Missoula tonight and will be driving through Helena tomorrow on his way to a business trip in Great Falls. I called him this morning and asked him if he would stop in and kill/ take care of this mouse for me. He laughed and told me, "Nope, you have to do this on your own. You're a big girl."
No I'm not! I mean, I might be 5'11 and married with a baby, but I'm still his little girl! Doesn't he want to take care of me! My husband just laughed and made an evil comment about spewing mouse guts on the kitchen floor. Thinking about that comment makes me want to cry! I hate mice, I hate spiders and I hate bugs but I don't want them to necessarily die! I mean, seriously, I apologize when I kill a spider. As I'm squishing it with a broom or a shoe I apologize out loud.
Why can't my dad just take care of it?