Orange Mouse

We have a mouse. The two things I have been told about mice cannot be true. One is that they never come in your house in the summer. It's July. They only come inside in the winter. To get warm. Uh, could someone please tell my little gray friend he has his seasons mixed up. The other thing I have been told about mice is that they travel in packs. Everyone who hears you have a mouse does that sideways look to whoever else is there and says "you know if you have one...you have lots." Always snickering. They're so smug. Those rodent free people. This is impossible, because if we have more than one, than I'm moving out. Leaving. The husband, the house, the kids. They can come.... if they can catch me. Having the mouse reminded me of things I have been afraid of. Mice may very well be at the top of the list. When we were little I would go down the basement with my sister to switch laundry loads. She would clean out the lint trap, ball up the lint, throw it at me and yell "MOUSE!" It scared me every time. Every time. For years. Love her. She's a sweetie. This may surprise some of you, if not just act surprised. I took a nap just about every day. Through grade school? Yeah, no...college. I was tired. I would fall asleep after school, wake up sometime after it got dark, and scare the heck out of my mother. Picture the scene. My mom is half dozing on the couch. The only light is from the TV. I wake up from my after school coma. Sit straight up. Wild eyes, crazy hair, run to the window and yell "SOMEBODYISLOOKINGINTHEWINDOW!" My mother would jump up, I could hear her heart beating. I of course still half asleep would add very convincingly "ITHINKIT'SA...SPIDER!" A spider. Looking in the window. I aged my poor mother 10 years with the spider in the window routine. After I was married I combined the fear of mice with the half asleep action. I woke Jim up one night. This time I was whispering. "Jim, wake up...there's something on the ironing board." Jim of course sat up. I had his full attention. If you want someone's full attention, whisper at 3 o'clock in the morning. I continued on. "It's an orange mouse....where's the girl dog?" Jim loves me alot. He doubted the orange mouse theory and we didn't have a girl dog. Yet, he still....threw a shoe at the ironing board. And killed.....the iron. Satisfied, I went back to sleep. My sister lived in an apartment building. I went over one Saturday to visit. Her laundry room was in another building. She didn't like to go there alone so she would wait for me to go with her. Me. Miss "orange mouse." Obviously her list of life saving heroes is very short. So we head to the laundry room. We each have a basket. We have to go in a door and down a flight of steps. Dimly lit. High on my scale of creepy. I am in front of my sister. Just as we get to the bottom of the steps, I spot him. A man. Lying next to the washer. I am paralyzed. But not for long. My sister must have spotted him too because when I turn around, she's heading back up. There ain't no way she's leaving me here alone. I start running. Faster than her. I used her calves as a step ladder. I knocked her down, and walked right up her back. Well actually, ran up her back would be closer. It wasn't easy either. She had the laundry basket in front of her. I'm guessing that broke her fall, but it created quite an incline. I got to the top of the steps and across the complex before she even got up. Me, hero? I think not.