mouse attack.

last night i found a dead mouse in my room. 

normally i consider myself a pretty tough gal. i can usually handle bugs. i may or may not be startled, but i have no problems whacking something to death with a shoe.

yesterday i noticed a moldy-ish smell in my bedroom. it wasn't overwhelmingly strong. i have a bad habit of leaving my windows open during the rain, so i thought it had something to do with that. or maybe, god forbid, the cats had peed in a corner somewhere? 

so i start sniffing around. and holyshit. there was a dead mouse. under my bed.

i did what any reasonable person would do. i slammed a bowl on top of it and decided to go to bed. i planned on asking my landlord in the morning to get rid of it for me. it was a little late and i didn't want to bother him now. (plus, i was in my jammies.)

but harry (i am blaming him for the death of the mouse as well) could not leave the bowl alone. i pleaded with him. i told him that the mouse was probably rife with diseases and would be the death of us all. but all he wanted to do was play with it. 

so, long story short. with the help of a pair rubber gloves. several paper towels. a plastic bag. the internet. and a ten-minute pep-talk to myself. the mouse (and my bowl) are now safely disposed of.