A mouse that is...not a bad date. Get your mind out of the gutter.
It was 6 a.m. and I wasn't awake yet. Like every other morning, I got up, shut my alarm off and headed to the bathroom to shower. When I switched on the light, I thought I saw something scurry behind the toilet. But, like I said, I was half asleep and tend to imagine things. I quickly thought back to when I first moved in and a giant roach ran across my foot. I had refused to go home until my friend found and caught it. I was prepared to move if these things were going to sharing my space. I fear bugs, especially giant bugs.
Once in college, I had just gone to Carvel to get some ice cream. Driving back home, a green spider appeared on my dashboard and was happily crawling along. I was at a red light when I saw it and the fight-or-flight instinct kicked in, so my first thought was to run like hell out of the car. I quickly realized that was probably a bad idea, but still not out of the question. All I had to defend myself against the green invader was my ice cream cup—which I promptly threw at my dashboard. As you could imagine, this was not effective, and I was now out of my tasty treat, ice cream all over the dashboard, spider lose in my car. I was never able to locate it. It may still be there.
Much like that spider, I never saw a giant roach again, so I saved myself a move (you think I'm kidding). Maybe until now.
So I took a deep breath, hopped up on the sink so nothing would be able to run over my feet, and slammed the toilet lid down to scare whatever it was out of hiding. That it did, and that "it" was a mouse. He ran out from behind the garbage and under my bathroom door into the kitchen. He was a tiny little thing—a small brown field mouse. Or in this case, a small brown apartment mouse. Relieved it wasn't a giant bug that would try to crawl in my ear and murder me while I am sleeping, I proceeded with my morning. I jumped in the shower and started to wonder how I would handle my little houseguest. Perhaps he was already gone.
I keep my shampoo and conditioner on the floor between the tub and the wall. This morning, when I went to grab my shampoo I noticed it wasn't alone. It was being kept company by little mouse droppings. Little guy must have been chilling in the bathroom all night. But again, I thought, maybe he is already gone.
After the shower, I turned on every light in my apartment so Fievel would be aware that I am there and he probably shouldn't show his little face. I debated even calling the landlord because I didn't want anyone to hurt the little guy. Maybe Fievel and I could leave peaceably together. I have pretty much no food in my apartment, so I'm sure he couldn't be planning on extending his visit that much longer.
So 40 minutes later with no mouse in sight, I became a little more sure that he was long gone. It was a fluke mouse. He just got lost last night looking for some cheese, or trying to escape the questioning cat that lives in the backyard. But when I went to get my shoes out of the closet, one single mouse dropping fell out. Ugh.
After listening to my friend tell me what one little mouse did to her house, I begrudgingly called my landlord. So all I can say is, Run little mouse. Run like the wind! And stay out of my shoes.