A very young and tired cowboy was about two Ahhhhmen breaths away from la la land last night when rudely awakened by Sally.
She was, and I’m not exaggerating, in a frenzied state of panic screaming ‘THERE’S SOMEONE IN OUR HOUSE.’
I jumped from my bed unfortunately neglecting to grab the Louisville Slugger baseball bat nearby that’s kept for just such an invasion.
Sally’s face was the milky color of the blinds in our den and she was trembling.
My normal resting heart is now approximately 2.5 times higher as adrenaline courses through my veins.
I’m saying to myself…’You’re messing with the wrong cowboy buster…get ready to meet your maker!’
Making my way cautiously down the steps…and still wishing I had that bat, Sally says…’he’s under the sink, be careful!’
My heart rate descends dramatically and it occurs to me that an unclothed cowboy is both not a pretty sight nor scary in the least.
‘What do you mean, he’s under the sink?’
‘It’s a mouse…I heard him scratching when the dishwasher stopped.’
A deep breath and a deeper sigh of relief.
‘Guess I’ll get dressed and put a trap out to capture this nasty intruder.’