there's nothing you can do that can't be done...
so as luck and a 21-year bout with insomnia would have it, i was awoken by one prickly pear of a dream last night involving a condition where my bladder was suddenly intolerant of acidity, rendering its very existence futile (and rather deadly). who dreams that?
so i propped myself up in bed to continue reading the book of the day, the witches by the magnificent roald dahl because, really, one childrens book a week is a trans-fat rich dessert for the soul. there i was reading about the laudable efforts of witches to turn children into mice, ridding the world of such excess pestilence, when i was suddenly aware that i wasn't alone. a quick glance downward spotted--you guessed it--a mouse! a tiny grey mouse with a little white tail and eyes that weren't as beady as mice usually have, but had a glimmer of personality to them. he knew he was seen, and by kind eyes because he didn't immediately scamper away. (could it have been that awful boy who lives upstairs, whose noisy existence i've rued since the day i moved in? supernatural things like that happen all the time, you know. so does wishful thinking). it was my characteristic index finger wave that finally got him on the run to whatever nest he had constructed under my dresser. unfortunately, he was a mouse, after all, and his teeny tiny brain probably construed my gleeful wave as some impending wave of doom, so 'bye, mouse.'
obviously my pristine existence has no room for some foraging rodent born of the filth that kernels this city, but the very nature of his small size couldn't have tracked in much dirt and he was merely seeking warmth, as this con-ed paying schlub was doing as well. also, due to my parents coming around to the fact that dogs are not furry incubi of rabies and mange and instead loyal (and potentially non-shedding) life companions until well after my departure to higher education, the faunal part of my childhood consisted of a multitude of rodents so i was no stranger to my unexpected (but certainly not uninvited) houseguest. still, i thought, he must go.
so i enlisted the help of a few friends, namely j.d. salinger, kate chopin, nathaniel hawthorne and bell hooks to facilitate the containment and relocation of my small friend (bell hooks' all about love acting as appropriate motivator behind my humane approach). i was thinking maybe the central park zoo would fare him better, both warmth and fellow feral rodentia abounding. see above pic for cnn's account of my homemade mouse trap, baited with organic peanut butter rich in omega 3s and a small chip of a tostitos hint-of-lime. why shouldn't my mouse share my sapience of all things tasty on his last night here?
with the trap set, i resumed with my book and slowly dozed off, confident that i'd awake to my little mouse napping in the bowl that would find him safely taken to his new relocated home. unfortunately, the little fucker was smarter than i and managed to eat both the peanut butter AND tostito hint-of-lime before making a safe escape to wherever he might currently be hiding in my vast expanse of an apartment.
so much for literary ingenuity. there's always tonight to try, try again.
and that, my friends, is just one more way to live in a world so many see as nefarious. off to buy more tostitos hint-of-lime.