I'm a mess: sore throat, chills alternating with sweats (but I don't think an actual fever), iffy stomach and exhaustion.
Despite this, I've cleaned (and, thanks to mice, disinfected to the nth degree) and organized most of my kitchen over the past couple of days. Before I got sick, Randy and I bought some new containers to securely store anything a mouse might find tempting. Containers must have lids; I've learned that no matter how tall something is, mice can get into them. I've developed an image of a paratrooper mouse with old-fashioned goggles, leather helmet and jacket replete with white silk scarf deftly guiding his shoot into the target, a big mousy smile on his face as he lands behind enemy lines.
The mice have won many battles, but I'm determined to win the war. They can just take their parachuting furry backsides to my neighbor's house instead.
Despite this, I've cleaned (and, thanks to mice, disinfected to the nth degree) and organized most of my kitchen over the past couple of days. Before I got sick, Randy and I bought some new containers to securely store anything a mouse might find tempting. Containers must have lids; I've learned that no matter how tall something is, mice can get into them. I've developed an image of a paratrooper mouse with old-fashioned goggles, leather helmet and jacket replete with white silk scarf deftly guiding his shoot into the target, a big mousy smile on his face as he lands behind enemy lines.
The mice have won many battles, but I'm determined to win the war. They can just take their parachuting furry backsides to my neighbor's house instead.

