I am currently filled with hate. I’m not proud of this; it’s just a fact. A painful, loathesome fact.
We have mice.
We had mice in Texas. For the most part, they were never seen. Arizona mice, however, are everywhere. They rarely even run when they see us now. We’ve become their bitches.
I hate them.
We’ve released 7 into the wild, including a pinkie*. We’ve opted for humane traps, though I’m beginning to resent this as what they’re doing to us is akin to torture. I can’t even sit on the toilet in peace without the occasional mouse running over my slippered foot and then hiding on a shelf behind supplies. This is one of the only times these mice run upon contact with us. Apparently, they’re shocked to see us and get so discombobulated they scurry about. To that I say, “what the fuck did you expect? You’re in a HOUSE! People live in houses. Don’t like us? Get. The. Fuck. Out.”
We don’t set the cats or the snake out after the mice. 1.) The cats are healthy, well-fed, lazy, and don’t need to pick up anything that would be detrimental to Crackerjack’s or the baby’s health, and 2.) live rodents and captive snakes aren’t really a match made in heaven. In fact, live rodents can be dangerous for captive snakes. They can scratch or bite the snakes and that can lead to infections. Plus, I don’t know how we’d get Sneaky Snek back after she went on her rodent-seeking mission.
I’d post pics of the little shits, but I’m still experiencing issues with the “how” of it. Just trust me when I say the mice aren’t as cute as those found in children’s books or even those you see in the wild. To me, when I see mice indoors, all I see are vectors of disease and destruction. Hence, Get. Out.
I started a post last night with music, but was too tired to follow through. Today yielded the exact same results.
The drive to San Diego was uneventful, save for a dust storm and a rain storm. The drive back was uneventful, save for the fact I left my fucking wallet in a bathroom stall at a travel stop attached to a casino. I didn’t realize it until we were already an hour away.
About 500 calls later, it hadn’t been turned in and I had to call to cancel my Visa debit card, my EBT card, and I still have an incredible amount of calls left to make. Insurance, DMV (again! And which has already proved to be nigh on impossible), social security, and I need to call about my birth certificate. I know the last two items shouldn’t have been in my wallet, but they were there for a reason. Also, my vaccination record was in there.
What really kills me is that the last note my mom ever wrote me was in the wallet. Photos of the kids. Ticket stubs from long ago concerts. Eighteen guitar picks I’ll never be able to replace. Things like that.
I know as time goes on, I’ll think of other items I’ll need to replace, but for now I’m just kicking myself each and every time I remember what happened. It’s the preferred option when compared to an accident or someone breaking into the car amd stealing all the things in there. We were lucky in that sense.
Exhausted by my own stupidity, I leave you with absolutely no music and 100% permission to laugh at my misfortune.
