Fucking mouse. Yep, I broke the seal, and used my favorite word of all time for the first time on a blog.
We've been hearing this scratching noise in what we thought was the attic the past few days. Well, M heard it first, but it kept ME up all night last night. Every time I started to drift off and heard it again, I got the creepy crawlies BAD.
I kept calling the cats over to kill it, and at one point was awoken by Catcher jumping into a plastic bag in M's closet. So they're definitely aware, but don't seem to be doing anything about it.
Freaking house. Freaking mice.
It sounded like it was in M's closet wall, trying to scratch out. Into our bedroom. Ew.
While we're on the topic of mouse stories, I've got a gross one.
When I went on maternity leave, I took all the stuff from my classroom. With nowhere to store it, most of it ended up in boxes in the basement.
When I returned to work, I moved some of the boxes into my new classroom. A few weeks into the year, I started going through one of the boxes looking for something to discover what I thought was a cat toy. It wasn't. Fucker had pissed and shat in my box, and ALL MY STUFF HAD TO GO IN THE TRASH. And it smelled bad too.