Hello Hello!
Yes, I know I have been slightly MIA on the blog, but I was not ignoring my many readers (to all 4 of you: thanks, by the way). I have been sick with this very annoying, and very persistent, nose/throat/ear summer-cold thing that just won’t die. A real pain as I haven’t run since Saturday and I am starting to get GROUCHY (and CHUBBY, which is adding to my GROUCHINESS). But I did have an oh-so-unpleasant adventure yesterday and just felt I needed to share, so back to the blog I am…..
So, working from home yesterday b/c I was sick, I am sitting on my couch, working on my computer and watching Oprah (Jerry O’ Connell’s Apartment Makeover episode...remind me to later blog about Oprah’s rock-bottomness) , when I saw a blur out of the corner of my eye. Huh? What was that? Must be nothing...back to Oprah. And then again, something out of the corner or my eye…I turn and look and see it, scurrying across the living room floor, no bigger than my thumb...AAAAGGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THIS IS NOT HAPPENEING!!!!!!!!!!!
I immediately go into panic-mode, curl up in a ball on my couch, and in my frenzied state somehow manager to dial my boyfriend’s work number (and at the same time kick myself for not having started dating an exterminator)
BF: Hello?
ME: AHHHGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!
BF: OH MY GOD WHATS WRONG???!!!!
ME: MOUSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
BF: (laughing) oh thank GOD...OK, OK, relax...
And in his relief that there wasn’t an actual serious situation happening (clearly we have different ideas on the definition of “SERIOUS”), somehow he managed to talk me off my ledge...but not off my couch, where I sat in a ball until he came over. While he hunted for a possible hole in the wall where Stuart Little could have come in thru, I took off, tearing around my building hunting down the Super like a woman - well - like a woman with a mouse in her apartment. After finding him and getting an assurance from him that he would call the exterminator, I refrained from hugging him somehow.
But as I walked back to my apartment, I began to feel a little mortified by my behavior. I mean, come ON Finny, pull it together. There’s not a rapist, a burglar, or serial killer in my apartment. It’s a mouse. A TINY LITTLE MORE-SCARED-OF-ME-THAN-I-COULD-EVER-BE-OF-IT mouse...I mean, I have never in my life been accused of being prissy, and I am not what one would call a girly-girl. I have been known to watch a knee surgery on the Discovery Channel without flinching, sit in the front of a roller coaster 4 times in a row, and go for 20 mile trianing runs in 90 degree heat...I am not a wimp. And yet this MOUSE can reduce me to a quivering little girl, balled up on my couch until someone comes along to help me???? Dear GOD who is this person? Because she’s not the Me I know!
And now this mouse – this MOUSE – has me questioning not only whether I should remain in my apartment for the night, but my own IDNENTITY. Way too much power for one little rodent...
So back into my apartment I marched, all armed with new resolve not to let Stuart ruin my existence...and while I’d been out my boyfriend did manage to find the hole in the wall and plugged it up w. a brillo pad, a temporary fix to the troubling situation (thanks, BF)...but I cant lie, I turned every light on and stomped my way to the bathroom in the middle of the night so that if he was still in there he would know I was coming and scram...
I wish this story had a happy ending, kids, but as of yet no word from the exterminator….so for now I’ll be stomping my way around my apartment until this situation gets resolved (many apologies to the folks in 4D below me...)
