Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeekkk!

I spotted a mouse in my apartment the night before last.

It scampered from an area behind my loveseat to the spot behind my TV, across the room from where I was sitting.

I didn't emit a girly scream, but I wanted to. I did pick my feet up off the floor immediately and felt like I wanted to throw up. Especially since it was too late to go buy a mouse trap.

I had visions of the little guy (or girl) wreaking havoc on my home (or ME!) while I slept. So I closed the doors between my bedroom and the other half of my apartment.

Like the mouse that somehow got into an apartment on the second floor of the building would be deterred by those...

Blech. My skin gets all itchy every time I think about it (like right now, even though I'm at work), and my hairs stand on end.

I bought a couple of traps yesterday -- the kind that don't make you watch the mouse die, or see its corpse -- and was too icked out this morning to even check. (This is one of those times I wish I had a fella around, so I could make him deal with it.)

And now I'm icked out by the possibility that there's a dead mouse in my living room.

BLEAH.

The funny thing is, if I saw a little mouse like this outside, I wouldn't even flinch. It's the fact that it's in... my... HOME. Where did it come from, anyway??

BLEAH. I'M SO GROSSED OUT!