The Hunt for Octomouse

Twenty-four hours without Facebook and I am still breathing. Seriously. Life goes on without Facebook, believe it or not.

My phone stayed charged all day, I got no requests to play Leprechaun Land or Candy Crush or anything else that used to annoy me. I ran, took dogs for walks, cleaned my garage, actually spoke to real people, and I saw this.



Really saw it. Not while I was distracted by eighteen other things, texts and tweets and IMs and Facebook chatter and emails. I actually saw it while I was sitting outside, simply enjoying being outside. Granted, I took a picture of it, but I always have a camera with me because you never know when you will see something magical, like this.


Oh, and I have a mouse. She's a good distraction. Anyone who knows me knows that I loathe mice with a red hot passion. Snakes, fine. Spiders, fine unless they breach the bedroom perimeter. Bears, fine. But mice. Disease-carrying, pooping, peeing, scurrying little assholes, not fine. I knew it was a matter of time, living where we live, but still. Last night, I thought I saw a shadow from my bed. And then the shadow moved. A plump scurrying shadow. She took her path straight past two dogs, who simply lifted their heads, glanced at her, and then lay back down. The same dogs who bark at air apparently cannot be bothered with this probably pregnant rodent invading our home. I have torn my bedroom and bathroom apart, looking for Octomouse, but have nothing yet. All in good time, my pretties.

Peace, love, mousetraps, and presence, XOXO

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