Okay. When it comes to hating gross things, I hate cockroaches most of all, but I also hate rodents of all shapes and sizes. I am not a mouse fan, white or otherwise. If I had three wishes, I'd wish away all the roaches and mice in the world. But I don't have three wishes, and I have mice in my bedroom.
It wasn't a pleasant discovery. I heard rustling last night near our chips' area (yeah, there's a spot for chips, but we're clearing that out in line with my whole 'I wanna lose weight' credo), and saw the mouse run helter skelter when I came a-callin'. Immediately, I fished out some flypaper and laid out a nice trap for my little rodent friend. Fifteen minutes later, we caught it, but it escaped! I laid out two other flypaper traps and went to bed.
That's where the really freaky dream started. I dreamt the flypaper caught, like, five mice apiece, and there were rats sitting around the area, and one mommy mouse frantically trying to rescue her babies. It was my room, but the house wasn't mine, go figure, and out of nowhere, in runs RuPaul, saying, "you better work, honey, beause those mice ain't movin' themselves, baby."
I woke up to find the traps had caught one mouse apiece, and one of the two mice was squealing so loudly, it practically woke me up. No cold sweat, but it wasn't a calming dream either.
Hopefully, no mice will make their way around this place anymore. Do reputations as mice-killers and torturers make their ways around the mouse community?