On Saturday night, we were watching "The Dark Knight" in the living room. (I know, I know. Ask me in two years if I liked "Slumdog Millionaire.") I was already on edge because Heath Ledger is creeeeeeeepy and I don't do scary.
Then, ever so calmly, Joe said, "Don't freak out but I just saw a mouse in the dining room. He already ran back to the kitchen."
I didn't cry or even whimper. I simply put on my game face.
Translation: I grabbed my phone and began playing BrickBreaker while Joe dealt with traps. Because nothing clears the mind of rodent horror like a stupid phone game.
Joe assured me I had nothing to worry about because the mouse wouldn't come in the living room where the TV was making noise.So we went back to watching our movie.
Attention: Did you notice I didn't jump on the couch or stand on the edge of our tub or flee the house? I was cool, calm and collected Katie.
But just a couple minutes later, we saw the mouse (who was supposed to be scared of us and the TV) dart into the living room. Under the entertainment center. Under the mini-sofa. And was probably UNDER THE COUCH I WAS SITTING ON!
Cool, calm and collected Katie was no more. I didn't break into hysteria but I did stand on the couch with my blanket, demand that Joe hand me my purse (because it was unzipped and I probably couldn't use it again if there was a chance a mouse ever sat in it) and stayed in our bedroom for the rest of the night.
Thankfully, the mouse had a craving for peanut butter that night and is no more. And thankfully, I have a husband who doesn't coax me out of the bedroom but instead moves the TV and DVD player into our bedroom so I can stay as long as I want.
I love that he puts up with me.
Although now, I'm not sure if I ever want to move the TV back out. I know everyone says never have a TV in the bedroom, but I have to confess, watching The Amazing Race and Oscars in bed was bliss.