There has been a strange rustling and scurrying noise emitting from a little-used cupboard in the kitchen. I have noticed the cats are often to be found sitting beside this cupboard with their ears perked. Houston, I said (as I like to call my mum), I think we have a problem.
The screech from the kitchen this morning confirmed it. My mum burst into my room, panting, and said she had seen a mouse. Various sizes were given (size of a finger-nail to half a hand, depending on where in the story she was) and various threats were made to our furry uninvited guests. I pointed out we have nothing to fear, as we live with two cats who are fearsome mice hunters. At least, when they can be bothered and haven’t got some top-level snoozing to get in first.
I am now convinced I can hear plotting mouse activity behind every room in the house. I have taken to singing loudly every time I walk in a room so as to give them time to duck out of sight. It’s the scuttling I don’t like, the quick scampering. It gives me the heebie jeebies.
So here I am, working from home in Mouse Central. And what are my fearsome furry warriors doing? Sleeping. I presume this is to raise energy for the final push this evening, she says, glancing nervously over her shoulder.
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