I've just made the startling discovery that I have what I can only assume to be a mouse in my house. Apparently it was hoping to cook something, but like me, couldn't quite find the right pan in the drawer beneath the oven.
Now all is quiet. I don't like quiet. It scares me. It's probably plotting as I type. It's saying to itself - this place is a gold mine - there's food/candy crumbs everywhere and lots of places to hide. I'm never gonna leave this gravy train. Fack.
Tomorrow I have to clean house & hopefully not be attacked by the mouse. I was going to put bags over my legs - but a suggestion was made to do it naked. There's merit to this - I won't have extra laundry to do when I pee myself from fear.
If you don't hear from me tomorrow, I've probably been overthrown & the mouse has taken over. They're sneaky like that.
Sonofa ...
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