How could I forget the other highlight from the week of being overrun by a herd of wild mice?

Deer mice to be exact. I was sitting in the living room talking to John and saw one meander jauntily across the kitchen floor to the dog food bowl, grab a bite of kibbles for a take out meal and saunter back toward the cupboard for an evening of fun and frivolity with his bros. He came back a moment later for seconds, or so I thought. After killing six of them over the course of three days, it’s quite possible that I saw a second mouse, not a second trip of the one mouse.

It was one hell of a wild party before it ended. We had dog food stashed everywhere in the cupboards and, oddly, my winter boots — twice one day, then the next morning. Then I started hanging them upside down. Then the killing started taking its toll on the offenders. We’re good now, the food is staying in the proper bowl.

The profile mugshot provided by the Montana Fish, Wildlife & Parks makes him look cute, “deceptively cute” the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention says on its hantavirus page. My deer mice looked like that initially, then they got a sort of flattened build with a glazed and vacant look in their eyes. I think if I waited long enough to pull them from the trap they would develop the classic Xs over the eyes to illustrate death, like in the cartoons where everything is cute, even mice, even death.

By the way, I really like how the FWP site says that deer mice don’t migrate. I would argue that they migrate into my house with every weather change. And then I migrate their carcasses back out in a body bag.

I wanted to clean my cupboards today anyway. It’s -8 degrees outside, what else would I do?

Though sleep sounds good. I’m exhausted from the office Christmas party. Wasn’t wild, wasn’t raucous, wasn’t drunken, wasn’t even late.

PTSD from social anxiety limited me to about four hours of sleep last night. It’s hell to be socially retarded. On the other hand, the package of bacon from Saddle Butte Custom Smoking I brought for the Chinese Gift Auction was a hit in the laughs department. Hey, I figured the place would be teeming with regifted do-dads and cheesy stuff. I like practical. And paradoxical. And pork.

It was quality pork, but maybe I should’ve wrapped it in something other than wrinkled ice cream bags and an Eddie Bauer box.

Maybe added a bow at: pam[at]