I have a relatively high tolerance for “ick,” but I totally discovered my limit last night. In a surprising bout of after-work motivation, I decided to get started on my basement organization project (that I embarrassingly shared with you here).
I was an organizing ninja….
…under a pile of wrapping paper, I discovered a dead mouse. But, like I said, I have a high tolerance for “ick,” so that barely phased me. We’ve found one other dead mouse in the house, and a few dead ones outside, but no live ones thankfully. I think our 2 killer kittens would promptly make them sorry. What really icked me out, though, was when I tried to dispose of said mouse. I covered my hand with an inside out plastic bag and several sheets of paper towel and picked up the not so dearly departed. Well, he left me a gift… of his fur stuck to the concrete floor. ICK ICK ICK ICK ICK. I know, not the image you want, so I’m sorry, but I had to vent. Bleach to the rescue thankfully, but I may be scarred for life. And I may be a wee bit melodramatic, but at the very least, I was scarred for the rest of the night.
It was a traumatic house evening all around. When I emerged from the depths of the basement to announce our ‘furry’ friend to Hubby, the smoke alarm started going off. On Chopped, they always make the error of not heating up the grill pan enough, so Hubby overcompensated. Our steak dinner that Hubby was cooking got a little too seared on one side. In his defense, the inside was cooked to perfection, but it took a while for the smoke to clear.
The last semi-traumatic event involved my jewelry. Somehow the Hubs walked into the small chest in the bedroom where my throngs of jewelry live while they eagerly await pretty frames to live in. Well, the jewelry and the dishes and holders and a leaning frame acted like dominoes and all went a-toppling. Must be a sign- I guess I need to get moving on those frames.
To cleanse your mind of any unpleasant images I may have caused, I’ll leave you with a few images of organizational prowess.