I was up late a few nights ago chatting away on Facebook. Along with the clicking of the keyboard... I heard clicking in a nearby closet. Eek! I quickly said goodnight to Facebook and ran upstairs, pouncing on Tom, whispering in a not so calm voice that I think I heard a mouse.
A day later, our dishwasher broke. It began spewing the water that was supposed to go into the wash basin all over the kitchen floor. Joy.... But it wasn't PURE joy, until Tom took it apart and found traces of mouse. Ack. The 'good news'? The hose had simply been flicked out of place (you know - because *something* had been using it as a way up to the counter.) Easy fix for the washing machine, but less sleep at night for Candice.
Then last night, since we were still firmly in denial, Tom looked up from his laptop to see A FREAKIN MOUSE! on the kitchen floor.
I, of course, jumped up on a chair.
I'm still there now.
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