Look before you pee

I read an interview with Kevin Smith this week, he's one of my all-time favorite filmmakers, and he said he keeps directing movies just for the stories to tell at his Q&As. I nodded to myself and thought, I completely understand.

That's the reason I stay in this house. Just for the stories.

Today was a day of errands and laundry and normal stuff. A step away from the sightseeing and business we've been up to lately. My mom and I made a picnic dinner that we all enjoyed, along with some key lime wine smoothies that were fabulous!, and then we settled in for a long night with our favorite superhero, Jack Bauer. We started the most recent season's DVDs on Saturday and we're down to the last disc. The Knapp family loves 24!

Things were going well, and after one episode Angela took a bathroom break. And then there were screams. Screams that wouldn't quit.

I was sure it was a spider. A big spider. I killed a medium-size one last night and we've been on alert. But no, I asked, loudly, and she just kept screaming. Finally she got out that it was a mouse. In the toilet.

Yep. A live mouse. In the toilet bowl. Swimming, trying to get out. And he wasn't tiny. (Why are all mice "he" in my mind?) And he was probably upset since he'd just been peed on. (I used my mouse voice when I regaled this thought to Angela, telling her he was probably like, "what the heck, where's this toxic rain coming from?!?!?")

I shut the lid and immediately called the landlord. Angela kept screaming. The landlord said to call the plumbers and just tell them there was a problem with our toilet but that would sound stupid I thought, especially once they got here and saw the mouse. But I called, and told them the truth, and they said to flush, and stay on the line in case it overflowed and they'd need to come over.

So I flushed. Once. Twice. Three times.

And the mouse was gone.

But not the hysterics.

So we've been flushing the toilet all night. Angela's attempted to pee without sitting and contemplated the bathtub. Tomorrow I'll call the exterminator. Our landlord and the plumber assure us a mouse couldn't swim in through the toilet pipes but I have strong doubts that he waltzed into the toilet bowl on his own. But who knows. Maybe he has some help from those friends of his, the rats, who allegedly marched through the front door a few months ago.