Thursday, March 13, 2008

The Leaf That Wasn't A Mouse

As I pulled into our carport one evening, a small brown thing scurried across the floor, freezing in terror when my car started to roll in.

OMG. A mouse. A mouse. A mouse. A mouse. A Freaking Mouse!!!

Okay. Keep calm. It's probably gone. If I was a mouse I wouldn't stay under a car, hoping someones feet would suddenly appear so I could run over them and enjoy squeals of terror. I swear I probably wouldn't do that.

I can't sit in the car like a wuss, I have to get out. I'm brave. I'm cool. If I didn't freak out (too badly) over the bat clinging to the upstairs hallway in our house, I can't freak out by a mouse possible under the car.

I get out, so far, so good. Was that a rustle? A mouse ambush?

Get a grip, woman! You are not a wuss! I said and said those words, I said them but I lied them! I wanted to run into the house and lock the door. After all, mice have nimble fingers!

But instead, I forced myself to peer under the car, maybe I had run it over. I don't really want Emma to get a dead mouse.

Um, yep. No mouse. No hint of a mouse.

Who knew a leaf could scurry like that?

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