I heard the diesel engine of the contractor’s truck pull into the lot.
I jumped out of bed and ran BAREFOOT to open the front door.
I ran BAREFOOT back through the apartment and grabbed the keys off the kitchen table.
I put my glasses on.
I glanced back at the front door.
I saw THIS on the rug.
Yeah, it was lying on the same path I took TO the door and FROM the door: barefoot. (Now to be truthful, this isn’t the actual mouse, I used this pix from ludicdespair.blogspot.com. A dead mouse is the same regardless where it died and who took the pix!)
I screamed like a girl!
The contractor came in.
I screamed at him.
The contractor thought I was yelling at him.
I simply did not have sufficient, coherent words to explain why I was screaming.
Finally, the contractor understood me. He said, “I thought it was a TOY mouse!”
I begged him to get rid of it.
He obliged. He laughed.
I thanked him.
The cat is in the doghouse. Like she cares.