Mr. Mousekawitz

Dear Mr. Mousekawitz,

I'm a reasonable woman.  I don't run screaming onto chairs and tables when I see you running across the floor.  I don't attack my curtains with a broom when I know you're hiding behind them.  Instead I give you a name and anticipate your next visit.  Mr. Mousekawitz.  Charming, eh?  Sometimes I know your routine so perfectly that I turn to wait your arrival during the 10 o'clock news and then giggle as you scurry under the table and behind the drapes plotting your attack on the kitchen.  I've been more than fair and understanding.  After all, I do live in the country.  That equals uninvited company such as yourself, and most days, I'm oddly okay with it.

Many late nights have been spent laying in my bed staring at the ceiling.  Why?  Cuz I can't sleep?  No.  Because you and your posse have waken me from my sleep with the pitter patter of little feet above my head.  How much do you weigh anyway?  For being such a small rodent your movements are nothing short of deafening and terrifying at 2 AM.  For hours I lay there tracking your movements back and forth, up and down, here and there, waiting for the day that a ceiling tile falls and we find each other face to face on my pillow.  It's not a happy premonition.  In fact, it's one that often requires a Tylenol PM to calm me enough to doze off til morning.  By then I've usually forgotten our mid-night escapade until I open the linen drawer for a fresh towel and tiny mouse terdlets fly across the room.  And that, my friend, is where I draw the line.

I've set traps over and over around the house for months now.  I check them regularly to see if you have met your fate.  But no.  The traps are empty.  Empty!  You have either been impressively trained or have invented the precise art of cleaning a loaded mouse trap without getting caught.  You are a veteran thief with skills I can not comprehend.  Do you wear black leather gloves while looting my traps and cupboards?  (clap, clap, clap)  I've gotta give you props, Mr. Mousekawitz.  You have been a fine opponent and have successfully outsmarted me. 

I was hesitant to set mousetraps.  I thought it was mean.  And when I finally resorted to breaking your little neck, the kindness in my heart inspired me to still show some compassion.  Peanut butter and chocolate!  Delicious!  So I chose to bait the traps with peanut butter and chocolate.  The exterminator suggested it and I found it a very humane and kindly gesture on my part.  If I'm going to kill you I might as well provide a proper last meal.  There are plenty of humans who would risk their life for much less than peanut butter and chocolate, so once again, I've been nothing short of merciful.  Until now.

No more peanut butter.  No more chocolate.  No cheese.  No Cocoa Puffs.  No more powdered sugar and brown sugar.  We're through.  Welcome to the world of De Con and possibly cats.  My kids have been begging for a cat for years.  Because I loathe cats, I have refrained from becoming a cat owner.  But, my dear Mr. Mousekawitz, unfortunately for you, I loathe you more.  Good luck, my nemesis.  May we both rest in peace.

Be Careful

My Thought Bubble: I wish the kids would bring their dirty clothes downstairs so I could wash them!  Lalala....

My Next Thought Bubble: Doh!  Seriously?!  Be careful what you wish for, Moron!!!

Heart Day

What I've Learned Thanks to Mr. Valentine

1. Valentine's Day when you're in elementary school is as tragic today as it was when I was that age.  My 9-year-old daughter literally gets sick by the constant attempts of making the boys and girls mingle at school.  Dancing with a boy when you're 9 is yucky.  Valentine's Day is dreaded by many little people for that reason alone.  Kids just want Valentine cards and candy.  Not lessons on etiquette.  When I was a child our school did a Valentine's Tea.  The boy had to literally escort you to the library and pull out your chair to seat you for the tea.  It was mortifying.  I still remember who my first dates were.  Justin Gereau and Tyler Hunter.

2. Flowers are overrated.  I'll take the Jimmy John's #12 for lunch over flowers any day especially when it's "freaky fast".  It was my kind of romantical when Mr. Handsome walked through the door yesterday afternoon with lunch in tow saving me from choking down another bite of yogurt.  My new motto...."food over flowers". 

3. It makes me smile to hear about young love, especially when my children giggle about Sally and Tom sneaking out to the "snow pile" and kissing "lip to lip".  Nothing more needs to be said.  Everyone at school knows exactly where "the snow pile" is.  No need for directions.  And "lip to lip"?  Wow!  Too cute.

(Of course I made up the names Sally and Tom.  We are after all in 2011 not 1975.)

4. I rocked the classroom back in the day with a Valentine's box made out of a shoe box and aluminum foil.  Yep.  It was shiny and spectacular.  Only problem that year was a little somebody named Bond.  James Bond.  No joke.  He was in my class.  He was smelly and dirty and kind of creepy.  Looking back he was probably a nice enough kid.  He just gave me the willies.  I thought he had a crush on me.  When we exchanged Valentine's that year I made certain that the card that I gave him had no hint of attraction or affection on it at all.   Funny thing is that each year at this time I remember Mr. Bond.  I either secretly had a crush on him or he scarred me for life.  I'll go with the latter of the two.

5. Conversation hearts may or may not come printed with the letters "DNA" on them.  Okay, so they don't.  I found this out the hard way.  I decided to make my husband a funny Valentine card out of conversation hearts.  I found this curious purple heart candy that said what I thought was DNA.  I thought it was odd that a candy would say DNA on it, but then again, conversation hearts get weirder and weirder by the year.  I mean, who says "Fax Me"?  So I put on my clever thinking cap and came up with a funny Valentine card full of conversation hearts and even managed to fit in the DNA heart.  Unfortunately when Mr. Handsome read the card he read all the candy hearts as they were intended to be read.  Apparently DNA was really DIVA.  I'm still cussing Necco for putting the I and the V too close together.

6. Lil G got a Valentine from a boy that said, "You are smashing!"  She is still on Cloud 9.  I'm confident that the boy who gave it to her had no idea what "smashing" meant.  But she took it literally.  Mars and Venus. 

7. Five dollars of decorations from Dollar Tree, a 2-liter bottle of sparkling soda, and fancy goblets make a heart-shaped pizza dinner magical. 

8. Valentines Day in junior high and high school is awkward and just a reminder what a loser you are.  Selling roses and sending them to people in class reaffirms that.  I mean, who wants to be sitting in class when the class presidency comes in to hand out flowers and a) you're the only one who doesn't get one or b) your friends and parents teamed up to send you one so you wouldn't be left out.  Awkward and more awkward.

9. What do you give a guy for Valentines Day?  Okay.  Besides that.  Back in '95 it was a Lucky t-shirt or some Preferred Stock cologne.  But after all these years there is still not a clear cut answer to this timeless question.  Most of the time I come to the conclusion that no gift is better than a lame gift.  Am I wrong?

10.  Fun Dip and Pixy Stix are of the devil.