Mouse Owns Slinky

So, yeah, I was totally owned by a mouse tonight. See, earlier today I found the little bugger's store of my dog's food in my art supplies. A.) Gross B.) Poor Yoda, having his food taken by a mouse. Anyhow, I cleaned it out, along with its droppings. Well, in search of more droppings, I cleaned out half of my room, emptying drawers and shelves, moving baskets of stuff onto my bed to get it out of the way.

I walk into my room, forgetting that I'd left a wooden staff in the floor and stubbed my big toe, splitting the big nail. As there was blood everywhere, I had to bandage it, then tape it up to keep it sealed. So, not only has this mouse made me turn the room into a disaster area, it's also, inadvertently, caused me bodily harm.

Well, I was working on some writing as well tonight. Good stuff. Anyhow, I didn't get to finish my room (just as Mother predicted), so I realized I was going to have to sleep on the couch (also as she predicted). I get out there and she's asleep on the couch. She has work tomorrow, so I opted to not wake her. I, instead, chose to go into the other tv room and set up camp on the futon. I pulled out a couple sheets, moved my fan into the new room, and laid down. Soon enough my dog, Yoda, was whining, so I let him get into bed with me, sitting him at my feet so he could snuggle against my legs.

I'd just started to doze when Yoda shook his head. I assumed he had a flea in his ear or something, so I ignored him, drifting off again. It was at this point that I felt something small and furry scamper across my face. Across my lips. And towards my hair. It took me a split second to go from zero to ninety. I shot of the futon, throwing the creature God only knows where and spilling out a stream of shrieked oaths to the darkness.

So, I'm officially done with sleeping. I'll sleep tomorrow, in the daytime, in my bed.

Also, I plan to hunt the little bugger down tomorrow. I have named him Pettigrew. And we all know what happened to Peter, don't we, kiddies. Yeah, this war isn't over. I've got a box of poison, a bag of traps, and a jar of peanut butt that's going to work tomorrow.

You have violated me for the last time, mouse.

Slowly fading away. . .

It's so hot outside. Seriously. Hot. I went to the Longest Yardsale over the weekend and my scalp is now on fire. Ouch! Fun but I think I went through about a hundred soft drinks/water bottles :) And the motel we stayed at was hellish. More on that at another time.

In other news, a quick recap of random weirdness. So I realized how much "stuff" sucks. My MP3 player was the first casualty of the summer. By now I'm used to the cars messing up so I haven't even been keeping up with my parent's vehicles' many visits to the mechanic, though the green van has spent many weeks there throughout the summer. At the dead center of the summer the family fridge broke down, then the central AC started freezing up again (as in every few hours) so it needs gassed. I find out the green station wagon that I'm supposed to start driving can't be fixed around here because I have to find a Volkswagen dealer to flash the computer before the damn thing will start--the engineering geniuses who created its anti theft system thought it would be cool to make the computer that starts the engine die if the battery is ever taken out (then hopefully the thing that was replaced on it will be working correctly). Then our washer just dies out of no where. The DVD player decides that it no longer records. Then the dryer's wheel stops spinning, and it's death is slow over a few days. And now the family microwave is making this horrible buzzing sound like it's about to explode.

You just can't rely on "stuff" anymore...

So, last Thursday, Dad walks out onto the front porch to go to work and hears a rattling sound. Turns around and what does he see but a shaking little tail. That's right, a rattlesnake on the front porch a few feet from the door. He had to go on to work, and we haven't found the bugger yet. The animals are safe, though, so don't worry about Dracula and Bart.

But I'm watching, little snake...And I hear you taste like gator meat, so beware. I am the predator!

Anyhow...

Today, I walk into my parents' bathroom for the aloe to find about twenty huge flies against their little window. Freaked me out a bit. I felt like I was in a cheap horror film. What's weird is that my parents come in this afternoon and apparently the flies were not there this morning when they were getting ready for work. And we can't figure out exactly where they came from...

I'm going to name the random little mouse in my room that I can't seem to find no matter how hard I look but who enjoys making a strange noise at three in the morning. I have a feeling it's a boy. I shall call him Sparky.

Nature is taking the house back....

I miss the dorm

You know how people have special writing spots? Places that help them get into the creative mode? The dorm was mine. It was my special writing space.

My room here at my parents' house is chaotic. Or maybe my roommates just aren't as much fun here.

Plus I miss living with one of my buddies. I miss my visiting neighbors. I miss naps. :(

Home just isn't as fun.

So I have a new goal. Find a new special spot. Somewhere in my jail cell. Speaking of jail. . . That could provide a nice environment for a creative outlet. Who wants to get arrested with me?

I'm only half-kidding. Thankfully it's the half with bodily control.

Over and out until the next somewhat depressing post.

Wall Symbolism in Margaret Cavendish's The Convent of Pleasure
Margaret Cavendish's The Convent of Pleasure uses the symbolic wall to explore the will of Nature as well as the grander themes of unity through separation and even unconscious personal defeat through matrimony.
http://www.associatedcontent.comarticle/2000374/wall_symbolism_in_margaret_cavendishs.html