Mouse in the House

Yesterday afternoon I returned to my home office from lunch. I sat down at my computer and by chance caught something unusual out of the corner of my eye. I looked down to my right and quickly saw something small scurrying under my guitar case. This was alarming.

Now, here in my new house in the woods there are all kinds of things that could potentially scurry under a guitar case - large bugs, spiders, lizards, mice, and who knows what else. I certainly don't know what it could be, ignorant city boy that I am. At least it didn't slither - that would have been cause for serious alarm.

I, quite bravely, lifted the guitar cause ever so slightly off the ground. Then, like a flash of vermin lightning, "it" scurried a few feet into the corner of my office behind my printer and bookshelf. It moved so fast I didn't even see what it was. I did scream like a little girl, though.

Like the resourceful descendant of hunter-gatherers that I am, I immediately called for my trusty hunting partner - my cat Willy. He was not far outside my office, probably attracted by my feminine screams of fear.

"Willy!! Willy!! Get over here and kill something!!!"

This, of course, sent him running upstairs as if I were looking to eat him. I reached out and tried to grab him, so as to throw him into the vermin-infested office. He would have none of it. As I reached, he bolted. My socks slid across the hardwood floor. I became horizontal as my ass and wrist quite painfully broke the fall. Vile expletives spewed forth from my mouth as I cursed my useless cat and the unknown critter now inhabiting a space I used to consider my sanctuary.

I picked myself up and went into the kitchen to get something to trap the creature with. I still didn't know what "it" was, but I had an idea of the size. A large plastic cup was procured along with some catnip to entice the brave feline hunter to help me. The cat followed me and the catnip into the office. He promptly enjoyed the catnip, but made no further attempt to aid my hunt. My wife closed the doors behind me, to give her psychological comfort (though not offering her any real protection from the beast).

I looked around the printer, behind the bookshelf, behind the CD rack, on the wall, in boxes, etc., but to no avail. My wife, looking in through the glass doors, suggested that it might be hiding IN the printer. Then I look and saw, curled up in the corner of the paper feeder, a small tan field mouse.

I promptly removed the plugs from the back of the unit, looked at my worthless cat in disgust one more time, and then picked up the entire printer. The mouse was quite content to stay in his corner of the paper feeder. My wife opened the doors to the office and the front of the house. I marched outside and placed the printer on the porch. The mouse was out of there before the printer hit the ground. In fact, he bypassed the porch entirely and just hit the lawn running with a tremendous leap. Thus ended the excitement for yesterday.

I used to be under the impression that cats' main benefit to humans, i.e. the reason we domesticated them in the first place and continue to keep them as pets, was their proficiency with and love of vermin extermination. I guess perhaps this is true for some cats, but I have yet to see any evidence of it.

Coolest. Product. Ever.

Did someone figure out how to do ebooks right? I think Amazon did it. Now if I only had $400 to blow on this thing, I'd be set.

My Superior Walking Skills

Despite my tiny legs I walk very fast. In fact, I can say pretty safely that I walk faster than you.

By what benchmark do I measure myself so that I can make such bold claims unabashedly? Well, for one thing, during the 10 years I worked in Manhattan, everyone in front of me - EVERYONE - was in my way all the time. In fact, it was a major source of frustration for me. And that there's by NYC standards.

Even now, however, what I've consistently noticed in airports is that I can walk faster off the moving walkways than people walking on the moving walkways. There was a woman just the other day who looked to be in a quite a hurry. She was next to me, but walking on the moving walkway. She was huffing along trying to make a plane. As I strolled next to her at my normal pace I easily overtook her and then increased the distance between us. And mind you I was not on the moving walkway.

Now, if I do happen to hop on the moving walkway at the airport, I am absolutely magnificent in my walking ability. I am probably breaking 10 mph on that thing if I had to guess. I'm pretty sure I could overtake a gazelle without breaking into a run, if it came down to it (and the gazelle was walking parallel to the moving walkway).

Why do I walk so fast? I don't know for sure, but I'm willing to bet it has its roots in some deep seated personality trait like chronic impatience or insecurity about being late. Maybe I'll go out for the Olympic power walking team one of these day.