Today we've been on a major clean up kick. I washed the kitchen walls and baseboards, Phil mowed and raked the lawn, we brought down the furniture from upstairs and then I decided to vacuum.
I wiped around the house. Moving furniture, doing my mom proud with my efficiency. Then I turned around.
There was a freaking dead mouse on the floor.
WTF!! After I shrieked in horror and shock, I thought to myself...but I just vacuumed there.
How did a freaking dead mouse get into the middle of the floor? No cat in sight. (Don't get me started on the fact that there was a mouse in the house and we have TWO cats. Lazy buggers.) Izzie playing contentedly with her toys. Ugh.
I shouted for Phil to come save me, thinking he'd be grossed out just like me. Nope. He ponied up and got rid of the mouse like it was nothing. Sweet. Honey, you take care of the rodents and I'll kill all the spiders.
I feel kinda sad for the dead mouse. Poor little guy. I'm still grossed out though.
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