The paranoid ramblings of someone who is scared of mice.

As the Scottish would say- 'There's a moose loose aboot this hoose'.

I feel like I'm in the movie 'Mousetrap'. I'm being outsmarted by none-other than a common Idaho field mouse. The Smith house mouse has dodged every humane (and out of desperation, one inhumane) trap I can throw at him. I've baited him with peanut butter, chocolate, ginger snaps (what self respecting mouse doesn't love ginger snaps?) and to no avail. In fact, I'm sure he waltzed in to my first attempt, devoured the peanut butter, and sidled on out again!

He's been hanging out in my room. For all I know he could have been using it as his summer home for months- I doubt anyone comes in here when I'm not in town. I found, in a plastic bag, in a shoe box on the middle shelf of my closed closet, a devoured fun size candy bar from dinner show, circa 2005. I'm sure eating 6 year old chocolate made him a bit ill, I can't imagine it tasted great, but even so- its gone. Did he Houdini himself in there, eat the chocolate bar and, curiously, half of an unsent note of teen anguish addressed to Julia Green as a sort of tag to let me know it was him? I can practically hear him shouting 'Stick it to the establishment!' as he scurries down his little hole.

He also defaced a little koala bear's face on the wrapper of a chocolate Sarah had given me as a souvenir from her flight from Oz. By the time the mouse was done with him, he was literally just a pair of ears. This guy is the Banksy of mice. Or something.

So then mum blocked his secret passageway with a piece of what I understand to be thick plastic- which stopped the little monster for a week or so, but starting three nights ago he has been waking me up at all hours of the morning by gnawing and scratching at the plastic. Like I'm just going to let him in? No, thank you. I've tried banging on the wall, turning on the light, moving the bed- nothing deters him. As a result I have a very odd sleeping pattern.

And tonight- technically, this morning- the unthinkable happened. This great Hulk Hogan mouse chewed through the plastic like he was ripping off a cheap white t-shirt in a strip show- with ease. I awoke to a clatter (and scurry) at 3:45 am- scurry scurry under the bed, scurry scurry by the window, scurry down by the door- he was everywhere at once and nowhere at the same time. I had no idea I was this scared of mice until an hour ago- I'm a prisoner on my own bed! What if I put my feet on the floor and he seizes the opportunity to run all over my feet? Or WORSE- up my pant leg!

This may seem irrational to some of you, but trust me, it's not. I'm almost certain mice don't feel the effects of gravity, so they could run up my leg. And obviously they are out to get me, so I can't put my feet on the ground- that's what they want me to do.

But why, mice, why? I pay my taxes, I, like you, enjoy cheese, chocolate (apparently) and eating things that are not and were not ever mine. We are the same, you and I.

And besides, I hear my brother has a half eaten cookie in his room.....