2004-08-03 - 9:43 p.m.

film at 11

I came home from work today and went to go upstairs to change. I was just about to put my foot on the first step when I saw on the floor in front of the step - a dead mouse.

I screamed, of course. That's what you do at a dead mouse. It scared me.

My husband then yelled at me for screaming and scaring him.

Then I yelled at him for yelling at me for screaming when I couldn't help it.

So he's yelling at me for shortening his life by scaring him, and I'm telling him I couldn't help screaming, it wasn't deliberate for dramatic effect.

So we're both all annoyed and he asks me where the mouse is and I tell him.

And he asks me, "How did it die?"

I just looked at him - then cracked up laughing. I said, "Did you just ask me HOW it died?"

And he's all - yeah - like why is that a weird question?

So I said, well, I'm not sure, there was no note, and the investigation is ongoing. When the autopsy report is released, I'll be sure you get a copy.

So he called me a smart ass and picked up the mouse for me. Because that's his job.

How he managed to come home, go upstairs and come back down again and completely not see that deceased rodent is quite beyond me.

Then I told the cat good job. I have no idea what her role was in this incident, but at the least I'm sure she chased the thing for a while before it met its end.

Sorry, mouse. Stay outside, live long and prosper with my blessings. Come in my house, the cat will bat you around until you drop dead and then some crazy blonde chick will scream at your corpse.

Speaking of which I should empty the kitchen trash. We'll all be happier with the ex-Mr. Squeaky out in the garage.

my mood -

the mood of the whole world wide bleepin' web -