The day was panning out quite nicely with an enthusiastic swim during which I came up with ideas for my novel, followed by some writing.
Then late this evening it became clear there's at least one mouse residing in our kitchen: two of them were observed scurrying around on the shelf with the mouse boxes. Trouble is my partner is off to Brussels tomorrow. I will be the one having to deal with any trapped rodents and I can't avoid the kitchen for two days, although arguably there'd be benefits from doing just that. It could be worse. In a hot country I might be dealing with a snake, in the Rockies it might be a bear. Why am I so phased by those little creatures? The other members of the household are quite cool about it, even amused. Does anyone have a cat for hire?
Twitchily yours
Jane
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