|It was probably way scarier than this movie.|
I found Lucy in the living room, staring under our piano. (Yes, we have a piano. Cause we're awesome. I'm just proud of owning a piano.) Both of the cats we're staring under the piano too. I'm thinking they probably just lost one of their toys, so I grab a flashlight and look with them. I find their toy mouse, which is extremely realistic. I then distinctly remember thinking "Wow, I don't remember it having shiny eyes." As I stand up, I see that their mouse toy is on the couch.
Reasoning quickly helps me figure out that oh my God, it's a real mouse under the piano.
I ran to the bedroom and woke Andrew up with "There's a mouse under the piano." His sleepy response is "...so?"
Me: Did you hear me? THERE'S A MOUSE IN OUR HOUSE!After a few minutes of my frantic shrieking, he got up, grabbed a broom stick and a box, and heroically set out to capture the mouse. As I stood at our bedroom door frame, ready to bolt Lord-knows-where and occasionally calling out "Andrew? Do you have it?"
Andrew: It's one in the morning, what do you want me to do about it?
Me: I want you to get it and take it outside!
(I would like to point out that the panic is setting in and my replies become successively higher-pitched.)
Andrew: Just come to bed Christine.
Me: How can I sleep when THERE'S A MOUSE UNDER THE PIANO!?!?
I also called my mother to let her know that we had a mouse in our house. She was unhelpful.
Apparently Sako had it in her mouth at one point, but then it escaped to under the couch, to under the lazyboy, to behind the washer and dryer, which are right next to the bedroom. It is at this point that Lucy somehow managed to catch it and proceeded to run up to me with it in her mouth.
I screamed as I have never screamed before in my life. Then slammed the door shut and jumped up on the bed. (As if that would help.)
Half an hour after it all began, Andrew admitted defeat when the mouse somehow hid under our kitchen cupboards. I then proceeded to panic even more and cry. Andrew, being a horrible man, laughed everytime I said "there's a mouse in our house" because it "sounded cute". His sleep-fogged brain clearly wasn't comprehending the calamity of the situation.
So there I was, standing on the bed and crying, when Andrew said he was giving up, and that I should just go to bed. After a few minutes of talking me down off the ledge (of the bed) I agreed to brush my teeth (with him escorting me, in case the mouse came back) and go to bed (but not before I stuffed the bottom of the door with clothes, so the mouse couldn't come in). For over an hour, I laid in bed wide awake, scared that the mouse would come back and chew off chunks of my hair like what happened to Pa in the Little House on the Prairie series. Everytime the wall creaked from the wind, I imagined a horde (horde? What do you call a group of mice?) of mice crawling in our attic.
The adrelaline eventually left my body and I passed out cold.
Having finally mustered the courage to leave the fortress I call my bedroom, I am now typing this on my couch, making sure my feet don't touch the ground and keeping an eye on the pets in case they spot it again (since I don't have my glasses on and I'm too scared to look around for them).
I have no idea what I'll do if I actually see it.
Yes, I realize that I am treating this itty bitty mouse as if it was a zombie, but I have never suggested that my brain is rational.
|What it actually looked like.|
|What it looked like to me last night.|