Yesterday afternoon, I was at work and in the office of one of my friends. She was telling me a story about how she got this awesome deal on peanut butter cups at Meijer that morning when she opened up her drawer to show me….
A mouse was hanging precariously on the back side of her desk drawer.
A mouse, people.
A real, living, breathing mouse.
Of course, we screamed and ran. A woman down the hall hurtled out of her office as well, asking if it was a mouse. That kind of makes me wonder if they’ve had this problem before.
My friend and I decided that it was a cute little mouse, small and grey and shiny, and had we not encountered it in such an unexpected place we might have liked to pet it. Except for the fact that I’m afraid of rabid mouse bites.
I’m sure the mouse would have delighted Angel Face. The other day, a locust or a cicada or whatever was perched to our fence, and Hubby called Angel Face over and she immediately reached out to touch it, and shrieked with laughter when it moved and eventually flew away.
It makes me wonder where we pick up this fear of creepy-crawlies. Because that kid, she’s ain’t afraid of anything (except maybe the music that plays when she goes #2 in her potty).