The Mouse Revisted

            The field mouse is exploiting my cabin's imperfections. I'm being haunted by all the instances where I said while building, "eh, that's close enough," or "good enough for government work." I plugged a few holes and found myself listening later that evening to the mouse as he tried to gain access to my cabin. He sounded frustrated and desperate. A smile came to my face. I took great joy in his suffering.
            The mouse kept at it. I heard him run toward the closet. I got out of bed and turned on the light. I thought he'd run scared with my activity. I sat at my desk and turned my computer on to read the paper. The mouse didn't scare. He was furiously scratching at the closet.
            I heard a noise behind me. I turned around. The mouse was crawling on the shelf of the closet. I was spooked. I went one way and the mouse went the other. I think. I lost sight of him in my haste to get away. 
            I gathered myself and emptied the contents of the closet but the mouse had disappeared. I spent part of the next morning plugging holes. Which reminds me of an old adage someone once told me, "if you didn't have the time to do it right the first time, why do you have time to do it over and over again?"

The Burglar

            Last night I found myself face to face with a field mouse. My cabin had been breached. I knew there was some riff-raff going on. There was evidence of it, a broken shot glass here, uncustomary rustling sounds in the exterior, a rodent dropping on my kitchen counter. The dropping was the catalyst for war!

           The field mouse knocked into something pretty hard. It made a racket. I popped up from a dead sleep and turned on the light. I pointed the light in his direction and waited him out. He buckled under the pressure and made a break for it. That's when I saw him, and he saw me. He was scared, but so was I for that matter. What rodents lack in strength they make up for with disease. I'm a bit of a germ-a-phobe. I wash my hands a lot. 
            I got out of bed and thought I'd show him the door. I moved things to get at him. I grabbed a broom for protection. I was a bit jumpy. I was careful not to be surprised by a counter-attack. Somehow the little critter eluded me. I figured he ran out the same way he came in. I spent part of the day reinforcing the cabin. I'm hoping he gives up, but something tells me he won't, survival tends to be persistent.