We have a mouse in the house! While watching t.v. the other night, he dared to dart across the living room in front of the both of us. He didn't even try to hug the wall and be nondescript. BOLD.
MK seems to think it's hilarious to imagine our mouse wearing a little golf ball helmet and taking his hog out for a spin after we've headed off to bed, à la Ralph.
I disagree. I want the punk dead. Mostly because I'm scared he'll get lost and try to play in my hair.
We set traps but so far no nibbles. Now, I'm channeling this amazing snake series and sending vibes of impending doom.
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