Cold

Cold drives the mice indoors. If the garage door stays open for a second, they sneak in, climb up to the ceiling on the mounds of things we store there for no good reason, and get into the drop ceiling of the basement on the garage level. From there, they can find spaces in the walls to get to my kitchen. For this reason, I am a mouse hunter. It is the only animal I know that I deliberately set out to kill, but I do. I'm up to two a day.

Yesterday, though I fancy myself a woman that can do anything a man can do, I reached up into the drop ceiling to put my hand directly on the dead mousie. While washing my hands until they were raw, I asked dh, a foot taller than I am, to see if he could stick his head up in there and retrieve the trap. Which he did.

Other notes: It is a beautiful day outside, sunny. Looks so nice. It's 18 degrees. Nature can be so deceptive.

Wm and I watched the old Willy Wonka last night while the rest of the crew watched a grown-up movie. Wm immediately declared "that's not Willy Wonka" and that Gene Wilder didn't look anything like the real Willy Wonka (aka Johnny Depp).