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El chupacabra tomó mis pantalones

el Jesús grande de la mantequilla

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Oy. What a day.
oh poopy
So. Work was fun. And by "fun" I mean never ending insanity by the end of which i was firmly convinced that my mind would be irrevocably gone. Happily it wasn't, but that might have made what followed more pleasant.

Got home. We've been hearing critters in the walls, found mouse poops in the basement. Live trap was unsuccessful. Cleaning up a bit down there, found a dead mouse. Dead mouse had been nibbled on. Ew. Disposed of dead mouse, went to go upstairs, found a live mouse drinking at the floor drain. Relocated live trap to near live mouse. Finished getting socks from the basement. Wne to go upstairs again. Was about to turn off lights, saw live mouse scurrying about. Hit live mouse with broom. Stunned him. Whisked him into dustpan. Carried dustpan upstairs, across the road, and tossed mouse into field. Felt very guilty. Mouse was very tiny, you see. Looked very confused. Also, stunned.

Walked to the wine bar in town to meet coworkers. Had two glasses of wine. Still feeling guilty.

I'm sorry, mousie.

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Well, don't feel too bad. There are certainly worse things that could have happened to a mouse in someone's home.

I have the most useless, dumbass cat ever. But she has her benefits; houses with cats don't have critters. :)

Poor mousie! But mousies belong outside. Sorry mousie.

Only one of our cats even bothers chasing mice, but almost all of them go nuts and play with the crickets.

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