I have lost weight. Unintentionally and accidentally. Not sure how much, about eight pounds, both my skimmy and skinny jeans are loose. Bizarrely this does not fill me with glee. I would spatch all those LBs back on if I could just get rid of the cause.
You see we have mice. Just two. (So far) And the thought of them squeaking around with their nasty little whiskers and their horrible little tails (oops might have borrowed that one from Queenie in Blackadder) makes me feel so queasy I can't eat at home. I can't go near the pantry. Or cook anything. My husband has lost weight too because I have thrown out all the dry goods (carbs) in the pantry. Everything - even the cereal - is now in the fridge. But we know those crafty little creatures are in my kitchen wall...and always on my mind...
Where are you hiding, you ghastly little buggers?
I've heard numerous times that they are more afraid of me than I am of them. But seriously - they are not afraid of me! Otherwise they would have left. And somehow they are still here after weeks of different kinds of traps and boarding up even the teeniest hole. I can handle snakes and any kind of bugs or spiders but not mice. Freakin' eeeks!
But wait: could this be the ultimate brilliant idea for a Fat Farm? The one that launches me into scrillionaire-dom. What about a "resort" island where your bungalow is infested with your worst fears. How much do you think I could charge for that?
My daughter, Tallulah, 10, walked into the pantry and caught first sight of the scuttling pair. All the kids screamed and I refused to come down from the bedroom. Jackson, 12, obviously inherited my terrible fear, because then the phone in his back pocket vibrated, he thought it was a mouse and he leaped, ran and yelled! He begged me: "Please don't tell people about the mice, they'll think we're disgusting."
I would go out to lunch but noone wants to come with me. So I'll stay home...but never alone.Suggest a correction