I’m not always great at budgeting my time to include room for sleep. Last night I was especially remiss, as I ended up on the phone with the Awesome Opossum later than either of us intended and I still had a script to learn and The Big Bang Theory was on….
So it was after midnight by the time I had my teeth brushed and my jammies on. Perched on my bed with a pink highlighter, I was ready to get to work, when I saw something out of the corner of my eye that froze my blood cold. A tiny brown mouse slipped under my doorway, ran to my Kate Spade purse, and disappeared. I stopped breathing for about ten seconds until I saw him slip back out of the room, like he’d been running a tiny mouse relay race all by himself. Even now, I feel shivers of panic thinking about it. In all the years I’ve lived in my apartment, through all the mice I’ve survived, I have never seen one in my room. This development is unsettling, to say the least.
I sympathize with Mouskal Kors’ desire for classic wardrobe staples that can stand the test of time. I’m sure there are limited fashionable choices for mice living in New York City. As this mouse is slender with very shiny fur, he’s clearly a mouse who takes his appearance very seriously. Maybe he’s ostracized by other mice for being so fastidious. Maybe he’s seeking refuge from the Zombie Mouse who I am convinced roams our walls. I get all of that, but my room is not a fashion museum for mice. There is no It Gets Better Campaign for this little guy. I hated to hurt his tiny mouse feelings as he was much prettier and more polite than any of our previous rodent invaders, but he needs to find someone else to idolize. I shoved the cheapest towel I have under my door, hoping to offend his good taste and encourage him to look elsewhere, as he doesn’t seem like he could pull off the chunky jewelry we usually give our mouse friends as parting gifts.