When Life Gives You Mice...In Your Living Room
A bizarre story about manifesting.
AKA Part Two of the series I didn’t realize would be a series: When Life Gives You Spiders…In Your Hair.
AKA the sequel to my soon-to-be-released-despite-not-yet-written memoir: My Secret Chocolate Period Book Stuffed With Riddle Cake That May or May Not Contain Mice. Talk about manifesting!
AKA Laughing So I Won’t Cry: The TRILOGY!
AKA AAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH: The Movie — in theaters AS WE SPEAK.
I don’t want to talk about it.
OK. I guess I have to talk about it because if I don’t I will most definitely explode.
Are you ready?
Am I ready?
*Deep Breath*
There Is a Mouse in Our House
"udsgfiusgfiugfiuwehfjskdbfkjsdbvksbvjksbvksgvuwhsvjksbvksbvwgefuiwegfihsdbvsbvsuhvsugvakhdbvakshbvuwiEGIhsdbcvshbvskjdbvsuihgvuwegvksjdbvskdbvhuwgvisudbvsibvsuigviuwgvsidhvbkjsdbvksjdbvsoudhvwoueghvowuvhsuodvhsjvkbskjbvskjdgvsugvuwegiwuegfbkjwbkjsdbvusgvwuegvudvhbuwehvuwgbvwidbvshkjdbvskljdvhsouhvgowugvowe"
Imagine if that string of letters were a sound and then picture it coming from my mouth as a scream except I’m not screaming out loud. I am screaming inside my heart so as to not scare THE MOUSE THAT IS IN OUR HOUSE.’
*Cue hysterical laughter to ward off hysterical crying*
Notice that I said that there IS a mouse in our house, not WAS in our house.
As in, still here. Please forward his mail. He lives here now.
We have lovingly named him MouseBoi and this is the story of his adventures.
Pretty OBVIOUS Content Warning
Don’t read this if you’re squeamish about mice or poop. Poop, Rebecca? Yes, Poop. Sit back, grab a nice refreshing beverage, and I’ll tell you all about it.
