Personal blog of christian
writer & fallible mom
Katy McKenna Raymond
in Kansas City, Missouri
Katy is represented by
Greg Johnson at
WordServe Literary
Read more Katy at
LateBoomer.net
Recent Posts
- Try
- Becoming Brenda Starr
- Off Beat
- Scattered
- That’s It
- So I’ve Finally Signed With An Agent. Now What?
- The Spoon
- Sciatica
- Sweetheart
- A Woman’s Train of Thought Has No Caboose
- However much we own, we are all still living on borrowed time
- After all, when restaurants shrink portions, they don’t shrink prices.
- As with everything in life, balance is key.
- Slow down, you move too fast…
- Yeah, I know. I have issues.
Syndicate
E me at katy @ ngenius.com
Snug As A Bug In A Rug
It’s a good thing I’m not one of those chicks who jumps up on a chair every time she spots a mouse. I DO scream, mind you, because their furtive sprints across the landscape of my peripheral vision are so darned startling, but I don’t jump.
It’s a good thing because if I was a chair-jumper, my furniture would be about worn out from all the exercise it would have gotten these past few weeks.
Yeah. We’ve had a visitor.
Apparently, though Doug and I saw the little fellow skittering through the kitchen twice on the same night, he wasn’t the type of mouse who’d easily fall for the old cheese and peanut-butter laden trap. If he’d bitten, he would have croaked for sure—either of a snapped neck or salmonella, since the lot number on my Peter Pan peanut butter is now subject to a nationwide recall.
Last night, I was sitting up in bed working when I spied—out of the legally blind corner of my eye—a sudden movement to my right. I turned my head to see the tiniest mouse EVER (I thought it was a bug at first!) run under a little bubble in the edge of the throw rug in the adjoining bathroom.
“Doug! The mouse!” I screeched. “It ran under the rug! Its little butt is sticking out and shaking like a leaf!”
Doug ran in with a small wastebasket. In a fit of genius which I didn’t actually witness since I turned away out of respect for the rodent’s final moments, he threw off the rug and penned the mouse under the overturned trash bin. Then he procurred a larger piece of cardboard, slid it under the bin, carried the entire cage outdoors and cast the relieved-not-to-be-food-poisined-or-worse mouse into the snow.
All in all, a high night of adventure in the Raymond home, wouldn’t you say?
After that, there was nothing left to do but to watch—for the first time ever, and how did we miss this?—Napoleon Dynamite.
Just the two of us. Me having a major hot flash from all the excitement, and him As Snug As A Doug In A Rug.
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