Thursday night Sam was out of town so I had prepared to drink a nice red wine and settle in for a chick flick. I was minding my own business trying to figure out our tv and the mountain of remotes, when I spotted the backside of a mouse scurry behind the tv console. I hate mice. I think they’re arrogant little (insert your own noun). They taunt you while picking up crumbs or trap you in your basement bedroom at the age of 16 after you’ve taken a shower. This is a not a field mouse. He’s an Amsterdam city mouse that runs through the walls of my house looking for holes, stroopwaffels, and Gouda cheese.
My friends also have a mouse in their house. They named him Mr. Belvedere. They think he’s cute and cuddly. My mouse does NOT get a name. I’m heading out to buy traps.