The vacation feeling can't possibly last. Eventually, the serpent arrives and we get booted into the real world.
A mouse scurried across the living room floor last night while I was talking to Ed. I let out a screech. A few minutes later, it scurried back under the sofa. Another screech.
The mouse is my serpent. My feeling is that when you see one mouse, there must be 10,000 of his friends and relations close by.
Tom set some traps today, but no one took the bait. I think cheese is old hat. I told him chocolate works better. Peanut butter is also good. We had mice in NYC.
As far as serpents go, mice are a far cry above the real serpents: snakes. If a snake had slithered out from under the sofa, I would be in some motel wondering where I was going to live next.
Years ago, in Minneapolis, some people bought a house only to discover that the basement was filled with snakes.
I have PTSD from just having read that story in the newspaper.