There’s a mouse in my house. Three times while I’ve been trying to concentrate on this debate the little bugger has run across the carpet in front of me. Three times armed with a flashlight and a baseball bat (shut up, it was either that or a lamp within arms reach and the lamp was still plugged in) I’ve gone after him and three times the little fur ball has disappeared into thin air. Poof gone, I saw him run under the couch, but by the time I got on all fours and peeked under he was no where to be seem – obviously he’s being beamed up to Enterprise.

Sigh, I’m going to spend the entire night listening for mouse noises, and jumping everytime I imagine movement in the bed.

On the bright side, hubby isn’t here or we’d all be on the way to the nearest motel placing a ‘for sale’ sign on the front lawn while passing.

Where’s that damn cat when you need it?