A post in which I am completely stripped of my dignity, bravery and sanity... (and will probably be sued by PETA)

I am girl.

I don't do mice or rats or grasshoppers or spiders.

That's why I have a husband.

And I'm fine with that.

But my husband works away. And some days it is beyond crap. Like today. Last night he came home for one night. (One night out of like, the past million that he has been away) But Georgie is sick and did not want to go to sleep and then I burned dessert, because I was too busy trying to put Georgie to sleep. It was just all bad my friends, I'm telling you.

It's funny, I was actually pretty angry with God about the whole thing- going "Why!? Why!? When we only have one night and he works away and it's not fair and some women don't even appreciate their husbands! When you could have had Georgie sleep and we could have had time together!" I swear, if I could have, I would have punched God in the face. I was one angry angry ant.

But then, after we had (finally) gotten Georgie to sleep and were completely exhausted and had two minutes together before Shane had to go to bed. I was reminded. He is not a genie. He does not automatically give us what we want. Just what we need.

It still sucked though.

But anyway, back to the story.

So this morning, I woke up with Shane at four in the morning (yes, I know!) and made his lunch and had a cup of coffee with him and said goodbye and then he left at five to be back out at work by six. I was about to head back to bed because Georgie was (amazingly) still asleep.

And then a mousetrap went off.

Now look I'm not a complete sook, I will deal with mice in traps. I hate doing it, but I can. But this mouse didn't get caught in the trap. Not all of him anyway. Not the bits that mattered.

The poor thing was screeching and squealing with his legs half crushed in the trap. So I decided to try to hit it. I would have been fine with just letting it go if it was alright, but this thing had a broken leg, I couldn't just leave it. So I picked up a poker from the fireplace and tried to whack it. I managed to whack the trap instead and the mouse got free. Panicking, it ran away from me, but it couldn't run properly so it was doing a mad half-run, half slide. Then it hid behind a table. I tried to whack it again and hit the mark this time but when the poker connected with the little mouse body I felt horridly sick and decided I just couldn't do it.

I walked past Chloe, who was cowering in a corner and hissed ' You are not a dog!' and then rang Shane who was about half an hour away by this point, in tears, begging him to come home. He was unfortunately, unable to oblige. (I am so sick of him being away) I discussed the idea of drowning it with him and he said that sounded like a good idea. Muttering "this is not my job!" I hung up the phone and filled up a bucket of water in the laundry and picked up the tongs from the fireplace to try to pick up the wounded mouse.

 The wounded mouse suddenly decided that it felt much better and started running away, so I chased it and managed to corner the damn thing behind a wooden box. Then I went 'what the hell do I do now?'. So I tried maniacally waving the poker at it from one side of the box so that it would run out the other side. This was not very effective. Then I tried to move the box out from the wall and the mouse hid behind a piece of paper behind the box. So I (being the intelligent being that I am) got the bright idea of throwing something heavy on it and squishing it.

I picked up one of Shane's big biblical commentaries and threw it on said mouse. It did not hit said mouse very accurately but did manage to trap it's lower body. Then I picked up a heavy bible and threw it as well. This was more effective and squished the mouse. So then, in tears and feeling like the most horrible person in the world, I watched the mouse make it's last pathetic little bids for freedom while it lay dying.

Once the mouse was very dead. I tried to scoop it up with the a dustpan, and had carried it partway to the door when the mouse gave one final death twitch. I got a fright and flung the mouse in the air, then it landed on the floor, and smudged a teeny bit of blood from it's crushed internal organs on the tile. I decided I could not face the thought of getting close enough to it to scoop it up again and swept it the rest of the way out the door and into the garden.

Then I collapsed in a big heap on the floor and cried.
 
And now, since I feel so sick and shattered, I cannot go to sleep, so I will sit on my chair and wait for Georgie (who, amazingly enough, slept through the ruckus) to wake up, and surf the internet to read other women's mouse stories and make myself feel much better.

All this before 6am.

It's going to be a great day.



Note: This one's going in FlogYoBlog Friday's over at  Glowless's joint!