For the past month my house has been plagued with mice. I guess I somewhat expected it since I live in an older place than before. It's starting to get cold, and those little buggers are simply looking for a shelter to keep themselves warm (finding the bag of Reese's in our kitchen to eat for a midnight snack was just an unexpected bonus). I might not have minded the mice so much if they were cute or cool like Gus Gus from ""Cinderella,"" but they're not. They don't sing or wear clothes that are too small for them; all they do is eat our food and poop on our floor. Damn you Disney for being misleading!
Well, due to the colony of mice living in our basement, I'm now paranoid that our entire house is infested with ""God's creatures""—and that's why last night I stayed up until 3 a.m. when I had intended to go to bed at midnight.
There was a pitter-patter coming from the attic. Something was clawing at the walls. Clearly, it had to be a raccoon, and he was trying to get out so he could attack me. I thought it over for a good 15 minutes and I concluded it was the only reasonable explanation for the noises.
I lay awake; tired, but unable to fall asleep. A raccoon was merely feet away and I was defenseless. So I did all that I could do—think to myself and ask hypothetical questions. Here is the rambling train of thought that occurred before I eventually got some shuteye:
Which one of my roommates should I wake up to help me deal with this? Even if I wake someone up, what would really constitute ""dealing with it""? I better not wake anyone up because they'll just get mad at me and I don't really want to deal with a raccoon AND a cranky roommate.
What should I write about for the column this week? Would people want to read about Halloween, or is that already old news? Well, I don't really even have anything to say about the weekend other than that the guy dressed as Squints from ""The Sandlot"" had, hands down, the most balling costume ever. Too bad he didn't have a Wendy Peffercorn.
I wonder what Bob Seger is doing RIGHT now. Shit, why am I thinking about Bob Seger? Does he look like Kenny Rogers? Or, wait, does he look like Kenny Loggins? Meh, I'll look into it in the morning. (1)
If Leonardo DiCaprio and James Franco simultaneously asked me on a date, whom would I say yes to? (2)
I want a Ron Harper Bulls jersey. That's all I want for Christmas. I wonder if they make them anymore. I wonder if my mom will even know who Ron Harper is. Better send the Christmas list to dad this year. (3)
Boy oh boy, that couple caressing each other's hands yesterday at the Union was really weird and creepy.
When was the last time I ate a Choco Taco? Gahhh I want a Choco Taco. Great, sleep is now officially out of the question for the night.
Is that raccoon still clawing at the wall? This is obnoxious. That's it, I'm waking up a roommate. Misery loves company, right?
Two minutes later…
Me: ""Don't you hear it?""
Roommate: ""Yeah. It's pretty faint, though. That's actually keeping you awake?""
Me: ""There is a raccoon plotting to kill me, so yes, it's actually keeping me awake.""
My roommate proceeds to put her ear against my bedroom wall. She then follows the sound over to my window. She opens my blinds and we both see that the wind is blowing ivy against the glass, causing the scraping noise.
Roommate: ""You're stupid.""
My roommate leaves and I go to sleep.
THE END.
(1) UPDATE: Bob Seger doesn't look like either of them.
(2) UPDATE: Why would either of them be asking me on a date, you ask? I'll tell you why, because this is my question, my mind, and I can make up bizarre scenarios if I want to.
(3) UPDATE: I mean send it to Santa … Screw it, no one under the age of 18 reads this column. Are you laughing? Oh, I get it. Ha ha, very funny. No one reads this column at all. You're mean.
