Mouse. with a little, puny Heart Of Darkness.

baltimore is officially famous for four, count 'em, 4 attributes. not to say that these particular noteworthy characteristics are only present in 'the city that reads', i'm confident they abound anywhere there's Old School housing. here comes the part where i list them, for the three two of you that are interested:
1) Very Poorly Sealed Windows.
2) copious amounts of Lead Paint.
3) a beautifully extensive Mold Collection. it never stops growing.
4) Pushy Mice.

when i first moved into this apartment the pup exclaimed, 'lead paint? did we just move to willa wonka's factory for dogs? I Can Lick The Walls All Day Long. And Eat The Flakes That Constantly Flake To The Floor In Flaky Goodness.' frankly, i was cool with that. with neurological damage on one hand, and a hyper dog brutally forcing my attention on the other, i'll pick the brain damage every single time. and it was summer, so i didn't notice the Very Poorly Sealed Windows until, you know, later. and me an' the Space Heater From Heaven have been doubleteaming those Windows for two winters and counting. plus i'm not allergic to mold, so the mold and i co-exist in typical 'circle of life' fashion.

but the mice. i can't deal with the mice. i experienced a highly traumatic Mouse incident in college that i may choose to divulge at a later date. so when the typical browish-black cylinders of love started appearing all over my kitchen counters, i decided to live and let live, with absolutely no Sticky Traps invoked. but it just had to go for the jugular- my clean dishes. my open disdain for the Washing Of The Dishes is widely known and thoroughly documented, and when i saw trails of Mouse shit underneath my dish drain that was full of clean dishes, i knew this Mouse was in no way related to the genial mice i had encountered previously. when i commenced the Washing Of The Dishes, the same dishes i had previously washed, i knew this Mouse was going down. not in a way that would result in one of us not-living, but in a way that would reaffirm that the counters belonged only to me, dirty dishes, and stray bits of garlic skin. so one night shortly after the initial appearance of the poo, i heard a rustling in my oven. i quickly ran over and flung it open, revealing the white outstretched stomach of a little, puny Mouse. this scared the shit out of me, for though i knew that the rustling very likely was caused by a Mouse, i didn't actually put two and two together (my inexcusable inabilities in the Mathematical Arena are featured in the DSM-IV, in most household encyclopedias, and are the subject of many a blog post). i immediately shut the oven door so that the Mouse would not touch me or otherwise give me that crawly feeling in my skin, and i shouted, 'I Hate You, Mouse!,' backing up this declaration with a swift kick to the oven door, so that in case the Mouse was doubting, the Mouse would know i was for real.

the Mouse seems to have understood. but the damage has been done. every morning, even before i pee, and some mornings i really have to pee, i check under my dish drain. stupid Mouse.