Story #1
Sunday morning, I woke up too early. Rodgers was already up, shaving in the other bathroom, so as not to disturb me. But since I was awake, and since I'm pregnant, I decided to go to the bathroom and then get back in bed. When I get up with the intention of going back to bed, I don't put my glasses on.
As I was leaving the bathroom to return to bed, I noticed an odd dark patch in the fake wood pattern on the floor. I thought that it could be a big ball of lint. We had been doing laundry Saturday, so it could have come from that. I needed to know whether it was something or part of the floor, though. I kicked it, very softly, thinking if I kicked nothing it was the floor, and if I kicked something it was lint.
I kicked something alright, but it wasn't lint. It was much heavier. It skid across the floor about 6 inches and stopped. I bent down to take a closer look and saw that it was a tiny dying mouse!
I didn't want to touch it. Touching dead animal post-butchering, I'm ok with. But I don't like touching un-butchered dead animals or dying animals. I assume they fumigated the apartment before we moved in and the little mouse got into that, and as a result, was taking its last breaths on my bathroom floor. I went and told Rod, "I have a job for you." He took the little guy, who was laying on his side, with all four feet twitching like it was trying to get away, outside.
We did report it to the apartment office, and they gave us a mouse trap, just in case there are more.
Story #2
This morning, Rod got up super early, as usual. I heard him occasionally as I hit the snooze button on my alarm. Around 6:45 he came into the bedroom to get something, gave me a kiss, and then went out again. Shortly afterward, I heard a car start up and drive away. I thought it was quite early for him to be leaving for his 8:00 class, but he's like that.
A few minutes later, I drug myself out of bed and started my morning routine.
I watch a lot of horror movies, suspense thrillers, teen screams, etc. They have one thing in common. The killer likes to sneak up on the victim when they're oblivious, have their vision obscured, or are otherwise preoccupied. Then, the killer waits until they are noticed by the victim, gives the victim time to scream, then goes in for the kill or torture, whatever the case may be. Sometimes, when I'm not totally awake, I get nervous about this scenario as I'm washing my face because 1) I'm not wearing my glasses and 2) there's soap and water in my eyes, so I most likely have them shut for a few minutes.
After washing my face this morning, I stumbled around in search of my face towel (my acne treatment bleaches most towels, so I have designated face towels which either aren't the type of dye to be bleached or are already bleached). I turned around as I was drying my face and heard a toothbrush clink in the toothbrush holder. Odd, I thought. I didn't think I was close enough to the vanity to hit a toothbrush with the towel, but that must have been what happened.
Then, I took the towel off of my face and someone was there, right in front of me!!! My heart stopped for a split second before I realized it was Rodgers. I didn't quite have time to scream, but I did feel the meaning of the phrase "jumped out of my skin."
He had not been the car that drove away at 6:50, after all.
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