Squeak

There is a mouse in my room.

Not at the very moment, but one has started to frequent.

A few nights ago I thought I heard rustling about in the mess and phoned K, but it went away fairly quickly so I wasn't entirely sure if it had simply been a plastic bag popping up, as they sometimes do. But last night in bed with Kip we both heard what was definitely a mouse. It made noise as it scurried admist the uni papers lying on my floor and the occassional wrapper that I need to put in the bin. And did so for several minutes. That was definitely a mouse. I know this because in my previous flat I had the same problem. Now of course, I'm living in tenement flats that are well over 100 years old, mice come with the territory. And no doubt it would help if I kept my room tidier. But still, I fucking hate mice!

Tonight, however, has taken the (cheesey) biscuit. I'm sitting here on my bed watching Outnumbered on my laptop, I hear a very very very slight rustle, turn and there's a BIG dark brown mouse sitting just inside of my door. It must have knocked a paper next to my bed, or the pack of lemsip there. Needless to say I yelped loudly, it turned and went back out under the door. At least, I suppose, I now know in which direction the mouse is coming from. From the hallway, and under the good inch wide gap between the bottom of my door and the floor.

But mice aren't supposed to like the light! My light is on! It is dark in the hallway, which is no doubt why it ventured out, but couldn't it see the light peeking out from under my door? Maybe not; they don't have great eyesight.

A long and teary phone call to K about the mouse and how much I hate rodents followed. Before I go to sleep I am blocking the gap with something (probably books/newspapers. Not a towel as K suggested, I don't want mousey stuff all over my towel). And I'm leaving the light on.

Stupid horrible mice.