We had a wonderful dog sitter who watched our home when we went on that luxury cruise last December.
His name is Evan, and he’s our son, and he called us during our gourmet dinner, the first night we sailed on “The Icon of the Seas” to say, “this might just be my imagination, but I “thought” I saw something scurrying on the kitchen floor.”
We told him to make an appointment with the ophthalmologist, and Jim continued his scrumptious meal while I could only fixate on a memory from when I was in college, when I thought, as I awakened one morning with my myopic eyes filled with sleep, that I was picking up a dust ball from my linoleum floor, until i realized dust balls don’t have claws.
I hadn’t thought about those tiny claws clinging to my bedsheet when I tossed its lifeless body with unparalleled hysteria since 1977, and I hadn’t thought about my son’s “hallucination” until ten minutes ago, when my wonderful dependable housekeeper of over twenty years let out a sweet little shriek .
“Great,” I thought as I left my lunch to investigate, thinking “Luke must have pooped again.”
I should have realized that my sturdy housekeeper, Asha, would not shriek if she saw some stray poop.. she’s been cleaning out bathrooms for over twenty years, after all.
She shrieked once and pointed to an open drawer in our wooden wall unit.
I have no idea who opened it or for how long it was open, but there it was indisputably.. Evan’s figment of the imagination, half in, half out, and very very dead.
Asha good naturedly laughed it off, scooped it up into a ziploc bag, and then wiped everything down with a disinfectant towel, including the neighboring drawer which had old letters and photos and.. droppings.
I will continue this blog once she brings me smelling salts.
Someone deserves a big freaking raise!!
The worst part??
I’m pretty sure the mouse showed evidence of recent transgender surgery
