I have a mouse living in my stovetop. I know you will think I am making this up. But I'm not. I have spotted him twice now. He pooped in my breadbox. I threw it out. The bread survived. The box did not. Under normal circumstances, this would be cataclysmic. Tonight, I don't care. As long as that little f*cker doesn't try to climb in bed with me, I'll allow him to live. FOR NOW.
To be continued...
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