I am going to admit right now that I used this photo because it is so ridiculous to me that I had to use it. Who would do this? Also, they are stripper shoes. I found this out later when I am trying to figure out why “stripper” comes up in my documents used today.
All that to tell you this terrible story because for whatever reason I share my terrible stories with all of you.
My husband, bless him, never really knows what he is going to get with me.
Take yesterday for example.
It was my day home that I had been looking forward to since my last day home last week. I know that sounds silly but seriously, I was so excited to be home that I had my clothes laid out on my unmade bed just waiting for me to have my day of wearing yoga pants, my sweatshirt from the #CabinAdventure and my L.L. Bean moccasin slippers (I live in these slippers).
I love days home.
This the point in the story when I remind you that we have adorable kittens, Waylon and Hank. They moved in to our home at the beginning of summer and they have throughly taken over this house. These two brothers run us and we don’t mind a bit because we love them so.
All summer they have been attacking each other and house flies. My husband has been giddy as winter approaches. ”They will be great for mice,” he says with a gleam in his eye.
And here is where I admit another truth. We get mice. Every year. This old farmhouse is like a beacon of warmth and safety to every field mouse in every field surrounding us. They invade us as soon as it gets cold. I keep things packaged and covered all the time but they still come.
Waylon and Hank feel that mice are their new favorite play things.
This is so embarrassing to admit.
What Waylon also did this week – this week. This is an upstairs window. Please note I no longer have a screen. These kittens rule this house. The end.
They have been catching one mouse a day lately. They leave it where they know we will walk when they have come to the conclusion that the mouse just isn’t playing with them anymore. Thankfully, they do not feel the need to leave the mouse on, say, my pillow.
I was writing on my computer when I heard Hank growl. Hank doesn’t growl. Ever.
Waylon crouched down in the doorway of the bathroom where I heard the growling. What on earth? I wondered as I turned to watch, slightly fearful.
Then I heard a squeak and I knew.
I quickly sent a text off to my husband. ”Hank has a mouse.”
He felt the need to call me. It’s like he must be there for my most embarrassing and traumatic moments just so he can laugh at me. He is sweet like that.
He also likes to talk so there is that too.
I am trying to ignore the fact that kittens are playing with a mouse until it is dead and I am very glad that the mouse is going to die before it eats all my food in the pantry – what if it were to find my one lone box of girl scout cookies that I have in case we are snowed in for days on end and I am out of all treats? .
I noticed the kittens acting oddly, as though fetching me to get me to follow them so with Jake on the phone with me, I followed them to the bathroom where they were pacing and…
…moving my shoe around.
Earlier today I had put on two pairs of pants, three shirts, a jacket, wool socks and insulated shoes to walk the track for an hour (well, less than that because Jake, again, was talking to me on the phone for like 15 minutes). Anyhow, I had kicked those shoes off when I got home to take a shower and there were my shoes still…and Hank was looking at the shoe and looking at me and looking at the shoe.
“Oh! Oh! Oh!” I began screeching into the phone, “I think, I think, I think, oh! oh! oh!”
“WHAT?!?!” says husband, all alarmed now.
“My shoe! Oh! Oh! Oh! It’s. In. My. Shoe.”
His laughter did not help.
I carefully picked up my shoe and flipped it over.
Nothing.
I shook it, flipped it over. A dead mouse plopped to the ground.
I shrieked.
My husband, with nothing to do but sit in a parking lot waiting for someone to unload his delivery, was dying with laughter.
“I’m so glad we have those kittens,” he said again.
I don’t think I can wear those shoes ever again.
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