I was galloping around the house doing housework the other day. I was galloping because if I'm working at breakneck speed, I can get quite a bit of housework done before it occurs to me that I'm not having fun doing housework. Anyways, so while I'm rushing around, it occurs to me to throw a load of laundry in, so I thunder down the stairs, snatch up the small pile of laundry from beneath the laundry chute, and head for the washer. I felt movement, and froze. A mouse sprang from the pile of laundry.
For one brief shining moment, I held a field mouse in my hand. Ack. Shudder. Know what? I didn't even scream. I think that I was too shocked to. I guess that I can count my blessings. Somebody in Oz was pulling her whites out of the washer, and discovered the carcass of a frog mixed in. The only thing worse that a live mouse in the dirty laundry would be a dead one in the clean laundry.
For the umpteenth time, I said to Tim, "We need a cat."