beulahbondo's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The squeaking is gone The squeaking has stopped. The mouse/moth stepped onto the glue trap during the night, and ran so hard that it sailed off the kitchen shelf, still stuck to the glue trap, and landed on the counter behind the knife holder. This morning I could hear its mad squeaks but couldn't find it. Whimpering, I peered around the coffee maker and then I saw it through the clear plastic of the knife holder. Knives hung over its head like swords of Damocles. "Look, I'm sorry," I squeaked at it. "This just isn't the place for you." I draped a plastic shopping bag over the whole rig and carried it downstairs and put it outside behind some bushes. I know. It died a horrible crying death. At least it was in the fresh air. My sister called and left a message saying, "Look, just buy a spring trap. It's over in a second." But it was too late. And what if the spring trap had just grabbed its leg? It still would have cried itself to death. All morning I felt morose and gloomy. And then the mouse on my computer stopped working and I thought, oh, for the luvvakrise, this is too much. I got my first Xmas card today, not from my sister-in-laws parents, who usually win, but from a girl I went to elementary school and high school with in Georgia. Her handwriting is exactly the same. Insanely tiny and neat. It was very sweet of her to remember me. I have a cold in my eyes. I need to go take a bath. I'm sorry, mouse moth. I really am. It just wasn't the right place for you, and there really wasn't that much to eat. You wouldn't have lasted long in my kitchen. 9:26 p.m. - 2003-12-01 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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