Saturday, July 21, 2007

I hate mice.

I hate when I'm relaxing on my couch, watching a movie, and I spot a mouse making its way from the living room to the kitchen.

I really hate when I scream and run out of the apartment, locking myself out.

And I really really hate when I get the front desk to let me back in, and I'm sitting on my couch, and I see the mouse squeeze under the kitchen door and mosey its way back through the living room to the vent.

The building's "engineer" is on his way. But I stood outside in the dark and the heat, listening to my dad describe different types of mouse traps for half an hour, and the guy is still not here. My dad convinced me it was safe to come back up to my apartment, but I've turned on all the lights and propped my feet up.

Do you know how difficult it is to scream when you've lost your voice?

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