a mouse in our house!

Okay, so there wasn't really a mouse IN our house per se, but the little guy was in our condo complex. Before you start thinking that we live in destitution, allow me to explain the situation.

The condo next to ours was recently turned into a model unit for prospective buyers to peruse. Upon returning home at 11pm the night before heading to Cannon Beach for our mini-break, we discovered that the door to this unit had been left ajar. Naturally, we wandered in to investigate the situation further. Music issued forth from surround speakers, the table was set for a fake dinner, and a cool breeze flowed in from the open windows and sliding glass door. Considering the fact that we are only on the second floor and there are a handful of drunken sailors wandering about Ballard, the open invitation to our building was not cool. After procuring a bottle of wine from the fridge (our fee for closing up shop for the agent), Brett closed all the windows and shut everything down.

The night resumed uneventfully. We drank the aforementioned pilfered wine and caught up on some DVR before I hit the hay around 2am. Since our place turns into a greenhouse during the day (what with our western exposure and requisite lack of air conditioning), Brett decided to open our doors and get some air circulating. As soon as he opened the front door, however, he noticed what he thought was a shoe. In actuality, it was the little guy above. He snapped this pic and then told me we had a rat in our hallway.

I immediately bounded out of bed and my first instinct was to show our kitties. Brett strongly advised against this because the probability that all hell would break loose was pretty high. Instead, in a surgeon-like tone I demanded he get me the yellow kitchen gloves as it was now my duty above all else to emancipate the poor critter. "What if one of our neighbor sees him and just kills him?" I cried to Brett.

A Benny Hill-style pursuit ensued in which I was bent over and scurrying up and down the hallway chasing after a mouse that was frantically trying to climb the walls. Brett played guard and energetically waved his arms and legs at the mouse in order to herd the frightened little guy my way.

Moments later I had an ahah moment and grabbed an empty box from which a new pair of earrings had arrived earlier that day. I was able to wrangle Senor Mouse into the box and insisted Brett follow me down the stairs so I could release the mouse in a processionary way.

He slid out of the box and began spinning in circles — obviously disoriented and horrified. I turned to Brett and beamed "Aren't you glad I shop?! Not sure what we would have done without that box." Sad to say, I don't think that he agreed.