As I am contemplating what slightly skanky version of something I should consider for the Halloween party I am attending this evening, my attention is driven to underneath my bookcase, where I see a little mouse scuttling by.
Instead of freaking out (as I did in my old apartment when I had the same issue), I calmly sat on my couch, pausing the old Friends episode I was watching, and got bothered. Ugh, now I have to get off my ass and get mouse traps, when what I really need to be doing is my hair and getting myself ready for this party.
I throw on my old college sweatshirt (which had spaghetti sauce down the front of it), skinny jeans and my flip flops and head over to the Duane Reade with my hair half done. I am surrounded by the slutty cop, the naughty nurse, and Tarzan as I ask the staff where I can find mouse traps. Yes, I am buying mouse traps, not body glitter, not beer, not candy.
As I set the traps, finish doing my hair (which came out great, by the way), and throw my witch's hat on, I realize, I am not about games. I take care of business and move forward. So take that my little mouse squatter!
**Writer's Note - the mouse has yet to be caught, but I am happily sharing my space**
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