If I see mouse poop on my desk one more time I'm going to...
I don't know what I'm going to do...maybe get my cousin to set 12 traps instead of 1.
I HATE mice!
The other day I was talking to a friend on the phone...wait, you know this friend now.
The other day I was talking to Mitchell on the phone. I bent down to pick something up from under my desk and came face to face with a dead mouse. I squealed. And then apologized for squealing in Mitchell's ear.
I stood up and turned to find something to pick up the mouse with and came face to face with Steve...a customer who makes it his life's mission to scare me. He said 'Boo' and I squealed again (how he can get that close without making a noise is beyond me). Poor Mitchell.
I said, "Hang on one second Mitchell." And then I said, "Steve that's it. YOU have to clean up that dead mouse." And he did and then later brought me a chocolate chip cookie...as if that could make up for the near heart attack he gave me.
I know you did not come to my blog today looking for a story about mice...
So here you go...here's what happened next:
I didn't call Michael, but I did text him. And he texted back. And we're meeting for lunch on Saturday. I'm still waiting for him to decide where. And my friend Bryan is going to be there, in hiding, in case I need a bodyguard. (Right Bryan?)