Even though I was a huge fan of the book "Who's Mouse Are You?
" as a youngster, those who know me in real life know that I have a serious mouse phobia
. I'm a pretty level headed, rational gal, so I was surprised to find one day in college that after seeing a mouse in the house and jumping on the windowseat, I could not make myself get back down, even after said mouse was out of sight. This has not gotten better with time, but worse. Murophobia, Musophobia
, or suriphobia
are all terms that could be used to describe me and my abnormal and insane behavior towards mice and rats
Tuesday evening, while furiously trying to pound out the last few pages of the book, my cat suddenly got very excited about something. Proudly, he scampered up to where I was working on my laptop with a still-wriggling mouse in his mouth. Needless to say, I freaked out. It was 2 a.m. or else I would have gone to a friend's place or had someone over to deal with it, but as it was hours away from my final deadline, I screamed and locked myself in my bedroom with my laptop and worked until the batteries died. I didn't quite get to the end of the book.
The next morning, the mouse was lying dead in the hallway between my kitchen and my living room -- so naturally, I opened up my table-top ironing board, covered the mouse, and fled from the house. Mouse? What mouse? Do you see a mouse?
There's no mouse here.
After my day job, where a co-worker asked "What if it's not there when you get back?" I avoided going home and finished the book outside. Thank Saint Gertrude
for laptops! Then I got drunk. When I got home, lo and behold, the mouse was nowhere to be seen, even when I lifted up that crap ironing board. I was just drunk enough to pretend there had never been a mouse and go to bed.
In the morning, however, I found it. The cat had pushed it into a mess of cords:
But since I was late for work, I left it there. Irrational behavior anyone? Thursday night, I once again managed to avoid the mouse in my house
. Finally, this morning, I took ridiculous action. First I tried to pick it up using straws as chopsticks, plastic cups, and finally, used several pieces of junk mail to push its tiny, lifeless body into the trash. It doesn't look dangerous or scary, just like a little sleeping mouse:
Yet I almost threw up. It's bizarre to have no problem with cartoon mice, real bugs, or even looking at a real mouse, but man the thought even right now of touching that mouse makes me feel nauseous and my heart race.
But I did it -- just like I finished the book. Ding dong the mouse is gone and the book is done! I'm looking forward to my first weekend without the book hanging over my head in a major way.