A Visitor.

Since we moved into our new place, I have been telling Trev there are mice in our house. It was really just a joke with no real thoughts of mice. I was just scared to be in a new house, in the middle of nowhere (relatively), with little to no light at night. I'd lie in bed and hear all these strange noises and say, "Trev, hear the mice? They are here!"

** You see where this is going? **

I hate mice. I am SO mice-phobic. I just associate mice with dirtiness, homeless people and alleys. On Monday night, Trev and I are curled up on the couch watching the season finale of "The Hills," (PS Next season will be SO much better) when I suddenly see (mind you, it is PITCH black) two little evil, beady eyes staring RIGHT at me from behind the TV.



Utter Hysterics.

Now, I was not just screaming. I was SHRIEKING, BAWLING my eyes out and hyperventilating. I was actually freaking out so much, Trev got MAD at me. (Creating more freakage). I made him carry me into the bedroom, (and lock the door) while I stood on the bed and continually screamed.

Trev caught the mouse and killed it. Stupid creature deserved it. Then he had to come and console me. A more daunting task I'm sure.

I didn't sleep a wink that night bc I had repeating nightmares of mice. I wear UGGS around my house no matter what now bc I'm so scared the little B has a mother or siblings. AND I refuse to go in our basement. All my in-laws think I'm nuts probably.

Mice might be a frequency in the country, but they will NOT be in my home. Trev will make sure of it. Yet another reason to struggle with living in Parma.

And PS, my house is immaculately clean and there are no alleys around.