There’s a mouse in my house. I consider myself to be a strong, independent woman, but something happens to me when I catch a glimpse of a mouse running across my floor out of the corner of my eye. I turn to jello. I panic. I freeze. I don’t scream, but as is often depicted in scenarios with women and mice, I usually jump on top of the closest piece of furniture. It’s utterly ridiculous and I recognize that, but I can’t stop.
Yesterday, I saw the mouse go running by. I swear he was the size of a regulation football. I immediately rounded up all the mouse traps I could find in the house and set them out all over the kitchen floor, warning my son to keep out of there. Poor kid, my mouseaphobia translates into no snacks for him. I knew I wouldn’t catch the mouse during the day, but I still hoped it was possible. Throughout the day I could hear him rustling around, but of course, I didn’t catch him.
The Pastor was (and is) getting pretty sick and tired of hearing me whine about the mouse. Last night he told me to “grow up”, which was probably appropriate advice based on the fact that I was completely freaking out at the time. But in my defense, this mouse has become so bold that I named him Reepicheep.
I’ve been reading Voyage of the Dawn Treader, by CS Lewis and Reepicheep is the brazen little mouse that encourages others not to fear and boldly marches forward into danger with great courage. My Reepicheep has taken to fearlessly running around my kitchen and tormenting me with no thought that he will be caught.
Last night, however, things took a turn in my favor. The Pastor, sensitive to my freaking out spell, reset all the mousetraps with a delicious feast and Reepicheep couldn’t resist. Mwahaha!
This morning it seemed that the sun was shining brighter, the birds were chirping louder, all the world seemed at peace. The Pastor went to an early breakfast meeting and I sipped a latte in my mouse-free living room. In addition to my mouse mania, I’ve also been fighting a super sore throat, which seems to have finally taken a turn for the better this morning. I couldn’t resist texting a quick message to The Pastor telling him how good I felt about both situations being better.
As is often the case in life, my victory was short lived. While I pushed send on my Blackberry, I saw a little brown streak run across my living room out of the corner of my eye.
Here we go again...