I realize it would have been funnier to write ‘tail’ instead of ‘tale’, but Fievel did it before me, and I didn’t want to plagiarize him.
Fair warning: this story does not depict me in a glorious light. Sure, I made a few confessions in these posts, I even confessed to being an embarrassment. But this story, still fresh in my mind because it occurred less than 2 weeks ago, shows that I am ultimately a scaredy cat with zero common sense.
Two weeks ago, my boyfriend’s car was in the shop for the state inspection, so I had to drive him to work in the morning and pick him up at night. So, I dropped him off, went back to his place to get into my running clothes -yeah guys, I run now, a lot has happened in 2 months-, when I saw it.
A cocky, carefree, tiny little mouse, in the middle of his living room.
I screamed pathetically, as if the poor thing was going to harm me, when it was barely bigger than my toe. Naturally, it ran off under the couch. But as soon as I was done screaming, it came back, thinking that the giant lady in the living room was gone already. When it saw me, it ran away again.
Here’s what went through my mind: ‘Fuck this shit, I’m not staying in this mice-infested apartment, I’m gonna take my purse and run away too, never to return again!’
So I did, and I drove to the place that one drives to, when one doesn’t know where to go.
Being the grown-ass woman that I am, I called my mom. She laughed so hard I thought she was gonna have a stroke. ‘My poor child, you’re so dramatic. Go back there, it’s not gonna eat you, and call maintenance so they can come and catch it.’ I did call maintenance, but I did not go back. For the past couple of days, I had postponed going to water my boyfriend’s mom’s plants, because ain’t nobody got time for that. But now, I had plenty of time to kill, so I went there. And also to Trader Joes, Barnes & Noble, and Old Navy.
When I ran out of distractions, I thought, shit, I should go back and do some work, but what if the mouse has mutated and is now the size of an elephant, with the strength of a White Walker?
Yeah because this summer, the boyfriend and I started watching Game of Thrones, approximately 25 years after everyone else. So many changes, guys! (Also, I might be in love with Tyrion)
So, instead of going home, I went to the office building to see if maintenance was coming soon. I thought, why not wait for the guy to open the door? Who knows what I might find. The guy was coming within half an hour, so I decided to wait. I waited IN FRONT OF THE APARTMENT, while holding my Trader Joes bag like a pathetic person. The guy arrived 45 minutes later, of course, wondering what I was doing waiting like an idiot.
He opened the door and, of course, no mouse. He looked everywhere, and I mean everywhere, behind the fridge, under the oven, in the closets, NOTHING. He seemed to think the little beast had fled the building as swiftly as it had arrived, but he could tell I was being paranoid, so he offered to set some glue traps. And you know, I love animals, and if I had seen that little specimen outside, I would have cooed and used my baby voice to talk to it. But there is something about seeing an unexpected animal in your living space, where it’s not supposed to be. It’s a fucked up feeling, I get it, because technically, I do not want to kill little mice, not even trap them in glue! But my irrational fear got the better of me and I became like Kelly Kapoor when she sees the bat.
So he set traps, warning me that the poor little thing was probably gone already, and that I shouldn’t expect to catch it. I nodded and smiled, but while he was talking, I was plotting my next move. Which was to get the fuck out of there. Keep in mind that I was in my running clothes, which were wayyyy too hot for the weather. So I took a bag, shook it a million times to be sure that no mouse was hiding in it, and packed all my stuff: a dress, a non-sports bra, sandals, deodorant, my iPad and my phone charger. As soon as the guy left, I left too.
Why didn’t I stay, you ask? Yes, I am aware that the mouse was probably gone, since he had looked everywhere with no results. But I was CONVINCED that the mouse was a cunning, criminal mastermind, who would come back as soon as the big strong man was gone, in order to terrorize me.
So I chose the ridiculous way out. I went to change at THE PARK, which is the epitome of ridiculous. Why didn’t I go to a café? I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking rationally at that point. I just wanted to get out of the house, and get out of my warm clothes. The park I run in has a very clean changing room with sinks and hooks for clothes, so I went there, and finished the day wandering around town like a hobo, carrying my iPad with me to watch The Great British Bake Off on Netflix while sipping on Panera coffee, until it was time for me to pick up my boyfriend.
We never saw the mouse again. I am convinced it went away the second I left that morning.
What this story has taught me is that I am a ridiculous person and it is embarrassing to be me.
Next time, maybe I’ll tell you about the reasons why I love Tyrion, because there are a lot.