I was washing my face in my bathroom a couple of nights ago, not wearing my glasses, when I saw a black blob move gingerly around my feet and scuttle out of the bathroom. It was too big and too black to be a cockroach, yet too small to be a rat. My educated guess: a small roof mouse. Unless, of course it was a giant tarantula.
Darlings: I do not appreciate sharing my humble abode with non human creatures.
Using my Sherlockian powers of deduction I remembered that I had heard some faint animal whimpering while watching TV the night before. Thus, there must be a poor little roof mouse trapped somewhere in this house who is farblondget (lost) and missing his mommy and I'm afraid we'll cross paths once again.
In which case I'm going to scream my lungs out. And in no uncertain terms make clear that he is not welcome.
I have been casting my suspicions across the hall, to some yet to be determined neighbor that may not be having the most hygienic living conditions. I have been living here for 16 years and only lately the hall outside stinks of dead dog and rotten feet.This may be the reason for the small menagerie now squatting chez moi.
As I am alone in the apartment these days, my nights are fretful.
I live in Manhattan. If I wanted to commune with nature, I'd buy a condo in the African savannah.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment