Jeff and I went out Christmas shopping today in Bangor and after 7+ hours in the mall and various other stores, we found we had been in (did not necessarily buy in, though) 18 different places. That's a lot of places in a relatively short period of time. We came home to a dark and chilly house as the fires had long since gone out and our two cats have yet to take up the task of putting logs in the stove.
We were both tired and hungry, so I put the groceries away and hurried to get supper in the oven. Then I went into the living room to sort out the huge pile of plastic bags full of presents on the floor. I stepped onto the leopard print rug and felt something roll under my foot.
Having had little kids in the house years ago, I was used to the sensation of something, possibly a toy, under foot and knew not to put my full weight down on whatever was bumping my sock. I stepped backwards and peered at the rug. At first, I thought, oh, it's just one of the tiny catnip mice the cats play with, so I went to kick it out of the way. That's when I noticed it was not a fake mouse, but the head of a real mouse, whiskers, eyes and all, lying there, staring up at me. And a few inches away, a bloody pile of innards.....
Not exactly what I expected or wanted to deal with at that moment, so my gallant husband came to my rescue with paper towel in hand. He scooped up the offensive piles and threw the whole mess into the stove.
That's when I went and made myself a nice eggnog and put my Crocs on for the evening.
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