The Christmas Mouse

I hate mice. No… that’s not strong enough.

I HATE MICE!!!!!!!

Even that doesn’t cut it. When we moved to Elmira, New York (Big Flats really) in 1999, my husband immediately went on a business trip. We hadn’t met the neighbors yet and had not had time to make friends. We’d lived there for only a day or two. My husband had introduced me to one young couple who happened to give me their phone number as a friendly gesture.

The first night my husband was gone I was lying in bed. Beside the bed was a massive box full of miscellaneous things I had yet to unpack. Apparently in our moving that box had been in storage just long enough to give critters time to make themselves at home in my belongings. And from that box, as I lay near it in my bed, came scratching and scampering sounds.

I panicked.

There was no way I was going to open that box to find the mouse, and there was no way I was going to sleep. I had three children sleeping in the other room and didn’t want them to be traumatized by the mouse.

So I dug out the phone number I’d been so graciously handed and dialed. It was after midnight. I explained my panic to the sleepy man on the other end of the phone connection. About half an hour later he showed up at my door and carried the large box and its inhabitants to my garage.

He met my husband at work the next week and in his quiet, strong-silent-type sort of way said, “Your wife really doesn’t like mice.”

Nope. I. Hate. Mice. There is no good mouse. Especially in my house… and especially not wrapped up in a gift marked for me.

My daughter is fun to prank. I love pranking her… but being the wise and witty woman I am, she can rarely get me back. This Christmas she outdid herself and got me back for all years past – and future!!

Watch and see for yourself…

And your thoughts are????

• You’re welcome to console me. Or congratulate my daughter!
• Or just let us know you laughed yourself silly…
• Anyone else get a prank gift this Christmas?