There is a mouse in our house and I am pissed about it.
I’m not just pissed. Frankly, I’m terrified.
I knew that living in an old building (or just living in New York in general) would allow for the possibility of little friends. I have experienced a mouse problem before. It was not a fun one. This time, I was as preventative as I could be. Traps set. No crumbs. I am the crumb dictator. No crumbs. No open food. No crumbs.
And yet today, there he was. In broad daylight. With two roommates on the couch right there. A mouse on the stove. Such a ballsy little mouse.
Bleh bleh bleh gross gross gross.
While I had an issue in a previous house, I’ve never actually seen the mouse before. This time, I did. He came out to say hello.
And now, I hate him.
He has brought out my insecurities. My fear of intruders. I am afraid to walk across the apartment in fear of seeing a mouse- dead or alive. I don’t want to see that confident little mouse ever again.
I hate him. I hate what he has done to me.
MOUSE- I don’t care if my roommate thinks you are cute. How dare you make me scream like a my 9-year-old self. I will fight you until the end. It will either be you or me. I will see the end of you and then I will scour my kitchen. I will not be afraid to make breakfast.
YOU WILL NOT BREAK ME MOUSE!
To be continued…
(If you have any advice… it is much appreciated!!)