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Thursday, January 31, 2008 @ 2:44 PM

Last night I dreamed about blogging. I dreamed that I was trying to write an entry, but my keyboard wouldn't type any vowels. Or, rather, the vowels were there, but they were invisible. There was a space where the vowels were supposed to be. It was weird. (See title for example. Ten points to whoever figures out what it means and comments.)

Last night started out weird (see below re: firing), and then got weirder. I got home and Amanda was sleeping. So we talked, but she was kind of asleep and didn't remember much about it this morning. I was playing on my computer when I heard a squeaky noise in the living room and saw Ms. Tallulah Mae playing around and chasing something. I looked over to see what she was playing with - and it was a mouse. Not a mouse toy filled with catnip, an actual, living, squeaking mouse. I screamed and jumped on top of my chair and Amanda was like, "Kellie, what the fuck?" She was not troubled by the presence of a stray rodent mere inches from her sleeping body, and proceeded to be pretty annoyed with my fear.

Now, I'm not normally afraid of mice. I like to look at them in the pet store. I had several mice, guinea pigs, hamsters, various rodents, growing up. (Including Kaiser Sose, who I still have warm fuzzy feelings for.) But to see one in your apartment in the middle of the night is a whole different thing. It was very startling.

In all likelihood, the mouse probably ran out the door once I distracted the cat by screaming, never to return. It probably went and told all its mousy friends about its big adventure being chased by a fierce domesticated hunter and screamed at by a pathetic 24-year-old. I know this is the most likely scenario. Nonetheless, my panic required me to barricade my door, change out of my pajamas into combat wear (jeans and full-length sweatshirt), put on socks, and lay in bed, with the lights on, whispering to myself, "It's more afraid of you than you are of it. It's more afraid of you than you are of it," until five in the morning. It's not like I think the mouse was likely to attack me, eat my face, give me rabies, etc. But once I've been startled like that, it's impossible to shake.

Then Amanda got up this morning, we had another conversation where one of us was asleep (this time it was me) and she left for the city, to visit an old friend. I walked through the apartment carefully inspecting corners and yelling, "If there are any mice, we have a cat here who is theoretically capable of killing you."


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