So, if you were standing around and felt a disturbance in the force, a Cameron-scream-heard-round-the-world a la Ferris Bueller's Day Off, that would've been me. I don't normally characterize myself as "girlie", but today definitely fit that description. I found a mouse. A dead one. In MY house. And I freaked.
Now, this disgusting bit of vermin rubbish was not in my actual living space, but STILL, it was in my home. I feel like I need to scrub every part of it down with bleach and rat poison. And even though I'm posting this where the whole world can read it, my mind still reels with the hideous thought, "What will the neighbors think?!"
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