Mouse House

We have a mouse.

IN OUR @!#^ING HOUSE.

To be fair (to me and to my borderline housekeeping skillz), the mouse is a result of a basement renovation.  Not a result of tasty treats all over the kitchen floor.

I was visiting my mom when the mouse was discovered, which led to all kinds of imagining of what was happening behind our dishwasher.

This was not happening, but between the beginnings of clearing out my childhood home (my parents are moving across the country and away from my hometown WHO DOES THAT), helping a friend declutter her entryway a little, and the fact that I cannot get that FlyLady out of my head, I started fantasizing about cleaning.  I mean really cleaning.

So when I got home from the airport today, I poured myself a cup of coffee, opened my suitcase, and took a nap.

Off to the races!

But seriously.  Between the mouse grossness and the fact that this kid is now mobile (it looks like she only goes backwards, but actually she’s innovating homosapien movement), it’s time to get serious.  We are in town for 8 days.

Ready.

Set.

GO.