The wee small hours were approaching so my boyfriend and I were talking in hushed tones. The house was still, until we heard it. The noise. That dreaded scutter. That unmistakeable sound of a mouse.
We both paused, stunned. Like a deer in the headlights, we stared at the drawer. The ratter continued and we just looked at each other. Expressions blank, we sputtered out plans of actions that collided in nonsense, it was quite the dilemma.
What happened, you may ask? Well, it was a turn of events no one could've expected. I firmly planted my feet on the floor and placed one in front of the next. I opened the door, and I tottered off to bed.
Correct, I did nothing. Ryan did nothing but turn over and flick the light switch. He slept peacefully. We woke up in the morning only to find....nothing. Nothing strange or startling had happened. Ryan's room was not teeming with little mice, it was empty, quiet.
We get too scared of the mouse. The little things, the tiny stresses. They overtake our sense and we panic. Suddenly the biggest concern in our lives is something literally smaller than the palms of our hands. Walk away, get some sleep. Come back in the morning and you'll find things are better. The mouse in your drawer won't hurt you.
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