Stir it up, little darlin'

I woke up this morning all fired up. Not sure what that's all about, but I'm not complaining. People I've come into contact with this morning (like the incompetent teenage barrista at the Keystone Starbucks that I had a few words with) are probably complaining, but I am not.

I saw a mouse in my garage this morning, and I am at a complete loss for what to do about it. I don't care so much that the mouse is in the garage, but I absolutely do not want the mouse in my house. I'm not particularly scared of mice, but I'd prefer not to live with them, either. However, I don't think I can put a bunch of those traps out in the garage. It seems so cruel to snap the life out of a mouse with those crazy traps, and I am not sure I'll be able to clean up the dead aftermath without some emotional trauma. Rat poison seems a bit more humane, but it is out of the question because of Milo. I suppose I could call an exterminator person to take care of the problem, but won't I still be left with dead mice to deal with after the exterminator leaves? Ugh. For a fleeting moment as I watched the little sucker scurry into the cold morning, I wished I had a husband (boyfriend, lover, hot neighbor) to deal with this particular problem. The husband moment didn't last long. I'll call my dad later on. Surely he'll know what to do.

I'm at work now, and it's so quiet. No mice, no teenage barristas, no people to bother with my loud Bob Marley. I'm wasting perfectly good energy here in my office, so I'm going to leave shortly and go stir up something more fun.