I stuck my mascara wand in my left eye this morning because my left eye back-talked me and violence is always the solution.
Now, technically, my left eye didn’t say anything out loud, but that’s only because it lacks the means to do so. The way it was blinking all passive-aggressive at me just really yanked my chain, you guys.
You might think I’m overreacting, but right after I popped my left eye a good one, it popped me right back with a Super Blink. You know the one. The extra watery, blurry, deep eye crunch? The one that paints your entire eye socket and cheek with wet mascara? The one that says, “Oh, yeah, lady? You think you can poke me with your mascara wand? Well, take this,” and leaves muddy tracks down the side of your face just to make a point?
This is war, is all I’m saying.
Speaking of war, there’s a live mouse under my dishwasher. It’s been there since yesterday.
FYI, there’s a guy who lives here in Oregon who contracted the plague last week after attempting with his bare hands to resolve a conflict between a cat and a mouse.
He contracted the plague.
I hear the mouse is more scared of me than I’m scared of it, but a) I DON’T CARRY THE PLAGUE, and b) the mouse doesn’t jump onto the kitchen table when it sees me and scream for the kids to, “RUN! Run run run run run! It is COMING TOWARD YOU. IT WILL BITE YOU. YOU WILL DIE. RUN!” so I think that’s a bunch of hogwash.
Aden, our resident animal lover, wants to keep the mouse as a pet. Shrieking, “YOU WILL DIE” at her didn’t persuade her.
Aden says we’re obligated to provide housing to the mouse just because we own a Mouse House in a low-rent district. I tried to explain the PLAGUE to her, but all she sees is Cute + Fuzzy + Warm Brown Eyes. What I’m saying is, it is going to suck when she’s old enough to date, you guys. It is going to suck.
Greg tried to catch the mouse ’til after midnight last night. Then he quit after I gently explained that the sun-like blaze of Seriously? You Turned On Every Light In The House?? was I Cannot Sleep AT ALL, Greg. Greg said he thought that I wanted him to get rid of the mouse and that having the kitchen lights dimmed wasn’t the same as turning on every light in the house. I said that I’d happily take the mouse to bed with me if he would just Knock It Off and The Lights Are Burning My Eyes.
It might seem like a contradiction – to screech at the rodent that carries our deaths in its mouth and then invite it to sleep with me – but I am here to tell you that I make sense. I fail to see, in fact, why this is such a hard logical leap to make.
Here, let me help you.
I am afraid of Certain Things, and some fears supersede others, thusly:
- Never sleeping. Ever again. Despair. Despair. Agony. Despair.
- Horrific death by plague.
- Going to work with smeared mascara.
- Staying at work with my zipper down.
- Losing an eye because I have violent mascara wand tendencies.
So. In priority order, you can see why Oh Dear God in Heaven, I just want to SLEEP.
(You can feel free to post those on the fridge, Greg, for future reference.)
In other news, last night my teenager described to me the way I talked to my children yesterday. She felt I was being somewhat inconsistent. This is what she said:
- To your preschoolers, you’re all “Sweet, sweet, nicety nice, sweet, nice, sweet.”
- To your elementary school kids, you’re all “Do your chores. And I mean NOW.”
- To me and Dad, you go “RrrrrAAAARRR.”
In conclusion, I’m going to title this post The Mouse and The Mommy Cycle because sometimes a good title says it all.