well, at least i didnt scream when i saw the mouse.


(this gets a little gross, so skip it if youre not bodily-function friendly. apparently freak-out overrules modesty or even decency.) one of these days ill need to delineate all this issues i have with this apartment. in the meantime, i am wearing combat boots (maybe to bed) and leaving the tennis racquet at my side - as if it could ever actually qualify as anything else while still in this room - AND REALLY LOOKING FORWARD TO HAVING A HISSY FIT AT SOMEONE, only its 4am and theres no one to hissy fit at, and its just me kind of subtly not weeping trying to figure out what im going to do next time i have to, god forbid, pee. you see, the mouse was (is) in the bathroom. i am hoping i have the incredible moral fortitude that said action apparently requires, even with combat boots and tennis racquet, because having been through the attempt once already: im FINE at getting into the other half of the apartment, turning all the lights on, slooooowly creaking the bathroom door open, yeah, all ok, fine, even closing the door! to the bathroom! this is a small, small space, people, for one person, for half a person, were talking airplane-bathroom, let alone a paranoid person, a dozen roaches, and a damn fucking furry rodent NONE of whom want the others to exist in their daily lives. and at that point, really, the hard stuff is over - im irrationally afraid of mice, certainly, considering their size and powers (at least until i start thinking about their tiny, sharp little teeth...not the teeth!), but at least not abhorrently, embarassingly so; no chair-standing, no flailing, though i admit i wish i hadnt been wearing flip-flops on first encounter - but no. its like some sort of horrid, twisted, performance anxiety, and i just cant pee in presence of mouse-possibility. hypothetical mouse. here i am, having boldly thought that the very phrase "having to go" kind of explained the situation, and its necessity, that do-or-you-dont-actually-have-to catgory, but no. jesus christ. i can sit and stare at the place where mouse (mao, by the way) probably came from, and now most certainly isnt, and kind of wonder how im possibly, ever going to shower ever again, and consider moving out right.this.second and sleeping on various couches until i decide that yes, in fact, an extra $200 a month is totally worth not having mice, a serious roach problem, a building whose wiring blows every other time i turn on the a/c, a room six feet wide, a questionable neighborhood thats near positively nothing (there is one, ONE chinese place that delivers), frozen flies scattered throughout the freezer (how? i ask you HOW??), maggots in the garbage, and food that magically disappears. is there anything else.

but thats all i can do, is sit and whinge, first to myself and now very much out loud, until i have a game plan for getting rid of mao. other than boots-and-racquet. which the racquet, not practical at all here, really, i think its actually as wide as the bathroom and so loses a lot of its otherwise highly pleasurable right-angled perfect-cubes versatility. although honestly id have a lot more problems disposing of dead mao than scurrying away from live mao - boot-scurry unpretty as it is - and should maybe invest in some more rubber gloves since i already used all of mine (not discussing exactly how). lets hope kitty downstairs stops nibbling on the boric acid and takes up hunting.

moral of the story being that mouse is incredibly, unbelievably annoying, in this seriously unexpected totally nonsensical way, and that for a well-educated presumably in-touch-with-reason-if-not-totally-reasonable woman i am really embarassing not to mention inconveniencing myself here, what in fuck is going on, this is going to be some serious test of adaptability oh-sure i can live in a tent that drips constantly on my forehead and go to job interviews smelling like campfire, or live in a trailer with no heat and a roommate who cant flush and a dog who rolls in dead salmon and then hides it somewhere, or sleep in the car because this is flat tire #3 and honestly who needs to "go" "anywhere", or be abandoned by a one-nighter and spend the rest of the eve with italians who dont speak english and propose a series of vodka-and-tang toasts to them, or even - waffles? is that a tattoo of waffles, that says "delicious"?, or did you just light those skis on fire, i think you may have, i think you oh thats my lighter, thanks - yes, to all these glories, i may now add that i am cowering in the face of a not even very big mouse, and i have to pee. thank you, and goodnight.