The F’ing mouse. He kept me up half the night with his shuffling and squeaking and the moment I’d get up to investigate he’d disappear. Of course, hunting a mouse out at 2am with a headlamp isn’t the easiest of tasks. I gave up and fell back into bed, resolved to think of pleasant things and try to drift asleep amidst the squeaking.
After my morning run however, I make it my mission to hunt him out. I approach the closet, cautiously. I pull open the drawer that holds my be-your-own-doctor-when-your-way-the-hell-in-the-middle-of-nowhere first-aid kit and – AHAH! The little brown mouse with big black eyes is there in the midst of gauze pads and bandages looking up at me, feet braced askance, as this menacing figure is looking down at him. We’re in a face-off. Yes, he’d be cute if he wasn’t such a nuisance – but, think of all those lost hours of sleep! And now that I see he was in my medical kit….what?! Little mouse tweekn out, overdosing on meds, pulln an all nighter. Thanks little dude. This business has to be stopped. I think fast and pull out the drawer with him in it and shove it out into our hall and slam my door (shared living at its finest). I beckon one of the guys on staff to come take my friend outside; but when gets to the drawer he tells me the mouse isn’t there – he’s escaped somewhere en route! I better not find the little furry one eating my cookies tonight; otherwise they’ll be trouble (I say this loud enough for him to hear if he’s still cowering in a wall or nook nearby).I head out of the house (for obvious reasons) and head down to the drum school. There’s a funeral going on next door so class has been cancelled (music isn’t appropriate next to the deceased , nor on Friday because it’s the holy day when everyone’s supposed to go to Mosque). With no class, I find myself by default heading down to the abandoned bar on the river, where there’s always a breeze and time to think. The side of the bar has faded paintings of Disney characters which I find rather funny for an adult hang-out. Most of the paint is peeled off now though and moss has filled in. A few guys are along the bank going at it, making beats and belting songs out into the wind (this is the practice spot). A little boy is out in the muck looking for wood. Fishermen untangle their nets and glace over ever so often to see what’s up. The hiphop crew of guys just shows up. They start breakn it down in warm-ups, tanks and plastic flip-flops (the sneaker faze hasn’t taken effect here yet). I look up and see two hawks fly by overhead - maybe they are looking for my mouse!