feivel is NOT my friend.

Have you ever wondered how your body would react in a fight-or-flight situation? Or how YOU would react? 

I have been watching Daredevil lately and wonder how I would handle fighting blind (or fighting at all). Then I think about how scared I get trying to walk from the bathroom to my bed in the middle of the night when I can't see anything. My toe catches a piece of loose clothing and suddenly I'm sprawled on the floor begging my killer for sweet mercy. 

I don't scare easily or anything.

Okay, really I'm not that much of a wuss. I mean, I got lost in Russia twice. By myself. And we all know how many killers and human traffickers live there. (don't believe me? ask the dishes! or watch daredevil..) As I was saying.. I got lost. Alone. In a foreign country. And I only cried once. And that was because I was battling horizontal rain. An umbrella does nothing for that. I was wearing a heavy dress and gosh, it was so awful. But that is a story for another time.

As established, I'm not a wuss. I killed about 81293071 spiders while I was pregnant. (pregnancy super powers?) I could probably do a killer karate chop, and my dad could definitely beat up your dad. See? No wuss in this equation.

My day started off normal. My son woke up at 7 and we watched some cartoons. Yes, people. I'm THAT mom. I turn on the TV first thing in the morning because hey, I am not a helicopter. I need the full runway to get in the air. Also I don't mind staying in one spot until someone tells me it's okay to move. We didn't even get through one cartoon, and Jamey was ready to get going. We ate breakfast, got dressed and planned our day.

As J and I were having a deep discussion about shoes, our conversation was suddenly cut off by a scraping noise.

"Uh!" my son pointed to our laundry room.

Oh my gosh there is a MURDERER in my house. In my LAUNDRY ROOM! ..In my laundry room? I should ask him to fold whatever was left in the dryer. No, no. I can do that myself. I'll have him start a load of towels. We really need our towels washed.

I was lost in the daydream of a serial killer doing my laundry when the scraping started again. Only this time, the scrapes had a different sound to them. It wasn't scraping. It was scuttling. I hesitantly creeped into the laundry room. I was greeted by my dryer with the most horrifying sound possible. 

Little claws scratching the inside of my dryer.

WHAT.

I opened the dryer door, ready to battle whatever clawed monster was headed my way. My laundry sat there pathetically and the scuttling continued. 

This thing is in my dryer. It is actually INSIDE my dryer. How did it get in there?!

I started hitting the dryer. The noise stopped. 

So I did what any normal person would do and dismissed it. I went on with my day. (no but really, guys. I just went on with my day. I thought it died so I left. rookie mistake.)

I packed up my son and we went to the store to return some shoes. (These are tedious details but I feel the need to share them.) I picked up a mat for our front door, and we headed back home. To be brief, I was very productive. I got a long list of things done that had been on my "to-do" list for a minimum of two months. (don't be fooled. these weren't small tasks.)

There is this euphoria that comes with being productive, and I was high as a kite. Which is only appropriate, you know... it being 4/20 and all.. 

I like to think this euphoria gave me super powers.

Throughout my productive day, the scuttling returned. I tried to brush it off but inside I was FREAKING OUT. 

My mother-in-law came over to help me pack up a crib to take to my parents house. (Shyea, guys. I purchased hardware and put together a crib with no instructions. And took another crib down. And moved it. Productivity.) While she was there, I mentioned the scuttling noise and asked if she would come listen. 

I had pulled my dryer forward earlier to make sure whatever it was wasn't throwing a party behind the dryer. Nope. Definitely partying inside. My mother in law peeked into the back and said, "Oh yeah, I can see it move."

"WHAT!?" I panicked.

The scuttling started again and I looked. Sure enough, something was moving up my dryer vent. 

Oh my gosh. It's a mouse. I have a mouse in my house. I would not eat it in a house. I would not eat it with a mouse! I do not like them, Sam I am! I do not like gree... oh wait. I'm confused. 

Oh. Right. Mouse. Here. 

I considered my options. 

1) Wait for it to die. not ideal. Mice are gross enough, dead mice-- I have a son to think about. He's too young to experience death and loss. Think of the children. Think of the mouse's children. I can't let this mouse die. I'd probably infect my house with dead-rodent disease. 

2) Kill it. because, you know, that makes all the sense in the world.

3) Catch it. I don't fraternize with rodents. I have a reputation to uphold. Also, the odds are against me. I would need to call in back-up. Let's see... Taylor is at work/school and I have no friends. Next.

4) Surrender. Who needs a laundry room anyway? It's a loss I'm willing to take, and we can part as friends. Nobody has to kill anybody, and I don't have to track down imaginary friends to help me catch it.  

I decided to surrender for the time being. I had dinner-making plans that I wasn't about to cancel. So I packed up my son once again, and we left the mouse to host his dinner party in my dryer. 

And thus concludes part I.

Stay tuned for part II.