Holy Crap

This is what just happened:

I am: Sitting on my bed in the lotus position, watching the new Adidas commercial directed by Spike Jonze on my computer
I see: An empty box of Chew-eez that's sitting on my window sill (in front of me, and a bit to the right) moves a little bit
I think: I should close the window more
I realize: The window is not open
I assume: It moved because Lou bumped against the nightstand, which butts up against the window sill
I look: To see that Lou is on the bed, too.
I understand: That something else moved the Chew-eez box
I decide: To move the box, the lotion, the jewelry container around on the window sill to see what's going on
AT WHICH POINT THE DAMNED MOUSE SCURRIES HIS HORRENDOUS GREY-BROWNNESS OFF THE WINDOWSILL ...

AND ONTO MY BED.

This means: Lou wakes up, starts barking (I should name him Doshodal - dollar short, day late), computer is barely saved from falling to the floor, I actually pee a little bit and make a gurgling noise in the back of my throat

This also means: I am about to move the hell out of here

I mean, I don't eat pizza in my bed, or bring crackers, cheddar, or any other super-delicious food in the room. I only have a bottle of San Pelligrino on the nightstand and that empty box of Cheweez that I was saving to paper over and use as a mailer for a present for my sister. It is said that God doesn't give you more than you can handle, but I gotta say, I'm getting close to my limit. It's enough that I can't afford to buy groceries, my wardrobe is best described as "Early Salvation Army", and my career can best be likened to an old car up on blocks in front of a double-wide belonging to someone named Earl in the deep south. No, add to that the persistence of mice in my life, and I'm just about through.

All that stuff I said about feeling bad when they die? I take it back. I'm going to get the phone book, the mouse-killing broom (I bought one especiallly for that chore, because who wants to dirty-up the good broom), and a big knife and keep a vigil until the morning. I'll let you know what happens. (Possible Headlines: Woman Cuts Off Own Foot in Failed Bid to Kill Mouse). Wish me luck.