Well, I’m finally getting to experience one of the rites of passage in rural homeownership: mice in the walls. At least, I hope they’re mice and not squirrels or raccoons.
Actually, what I’d really like to hope is that it’s just one tiny mouse who lost his way and ended up under our roof and is only scrambling around to try to find a way out, so he can warn his buddies not to come in, that it’s way better out in the fields.
Alas, I think that’s a delusion. Still, I lie in bed, an insomniac, staring up at where the scratching noise is coming from in the ceiling, wishing I could will the rodent away with the power of my laser vision.