My roofmate and I aren't home very much. When we do come in, we're usually on our way back out so mail gets tossed on the coffee table, jackets get hung over the dining room chairs, and there's a lovely pile of shoes near the front door. We're messy people, but we aren't dirty. We do dishes, take out the trash, keep food in the cupboards, and sometimes we even vacuum.

So imagine my surprise last night when I leaned from the couch to the coffee table to grab my drink and saw something scurry from underneath our door jamb (gah, the hairs on the back of my neck are raising as I type this) toward the far wall. I screamed...yes, I screamed like a little girl...and I must have scared it because it ran back into the fucking crater under our front door that is apparently usually covered by our doormat. I had no idea it was there.

My roofmate was still at work, so I had to deal with this alone. Deal with it? Right. I squished into a corner of the couch, curled my legs up under me, and proceeded to utterly panic:

There's a mouse. A dirty poopy mouse. IN OUR HOUSE. Shit Shit Shit. How did it get here? What do I do, what do I DO??? Call roofmate! Yes, that's it, she'll come home and then at least I won't be alone with the mouse that is IN OUR HOUSE. She's not answering....

HOLY MOTHER OF PETE THERE IT IS AGAIN. SCRRRRRRREEEEEEAM!!!

A mouse that I'm fervantly hoping is the same mouse comes scurring out of our coat closet on the other side of the room.

*ding dong*

Shit that's my food. How can I get to the door without my feet touching the ground?

When my roofmate finally got home from work, I had been sitting on the couch with my feet up for approximately 2 hours. I had to pee really badly, but there was a large stretch of mouse infested floor between the couch and the bathroom. I had called emergency maintainance, but they apparently didn't consider a mouse an emergency. Roofie can be a self-proclaimed bitch on wheels when it comes to stuff like that so she called them back and some poor sad tired man had to come out at 10.30 pm to set up a mouse trap for us. We certainly weren't going to do it.

Apparently, from what he told us, the building that we live in has been having a "little problem with mice." And all they can do is trap them when people call. He said he thought someone had probably brought them in on a recent move-in. Oh and they're going to come out today and fill the gaping chasm leading to hell that is on the inside of our front door jamb.

I'm completely and utterly skeeved out. It's not the mouse itself that creeps me out, I've held mice. But they came out of a cage. I've dissected a rat. But it was dead already. But I refuse to co-habit with something that doesn't use a toilet, is associated with people who leave food in piles on their kitchen floor, carries the Black Plague, and can eat it's way through a cement door jamb and apparently muscle aside a carpet remant. I'm throwing out EVERY. SINGLE. THING. in our cupboards. Maybe even the dishes.

*shiver*