Okay, so apparently I have a lot of repressed aggression. Like homicidal aggression and only very lightly repressed, bubbling just below the surface of my seemingly zen appearance. I might look like your typical OC suburban mom, but who knew I was harboring such Dexter level thoughts like a Titanic iceberg ready to sink this whole ship? Y’all didn’t know we were doing confessions today did you???? Oh yes sisters, we ’bout to spill the tea on how I realized I might be a homicidal maniac.
I walked into my closet yesterday afternoon, feeling very smug because I had just redone my closet and I’m quite happy with the way it looks. I’ve been trying to work on prettying up the shelving unit I just bought to display all my purses and thought it would be an ideal time to rearrange things- Alex didn’t sleep well at all the night before and had just gone down for a nap. (Side note we can explore later- he’s having some “oh my god I’m about to die what was the meaning of my whole life type crisis. Is there such a thing as a late life crisis similar to a mid life one? He’s obsessed with estate planning and it’s keeping him up at night) ANYHOO- I walk into my closet and look down at my fave Chanel boots thinking “Oh hey its Pumpkin Spice Latte day which means it’s finally acceptable to wear boots”- here in California we don’t have weather or seasons so we tell fashion cues by Starbucks cups and drinks. Pumpkin spice latte day means ankle boots can come out to play and Christmas cups means cashmere and full boots and scarves are now acceptable. Again with the anyhoo- there was a MOTHER FUCKING MOUSE sitting on my Chanel. Just sitting there looking up at me like hmmm, I like the makeover in here, it’s looking good.
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Ya, that’s a NOPE for me dawg. I don’t do rodents. I’m not catching Ebola in my own damn home. I looked over at my “guard”dog who will gladly eat the gardener or mailman alive and he was smiling at this damn mouse like it was the cutest thing he’d seen all day. Didn’t even know the stupid dog could smile. I mean, the mouse was cute but like outdoors cute not cute in my closet. Not even Fievel was that fucking cute. So I go outside and get one of our mouser cats we have on property to keep mice and rats out of our hay barn. This black cat is like the Pablo Escobar of the neighborhood. He kills mice and rats and lizards, yes but I also find dead birds near his enclosure too which really pisses me off. Why don’t they fly away? They can FLY! How do they not escape him when they can FLY? So I figure I will let him come inside this one time to do what he does best, Alex won’t care since he’s asleep and won’t know and I will solve the mouse issue. I go outside to like the shady side of town and hire the mouse hitman and bring him back to my closet and show him the mouse and basically chaos ensues. Have you seen the movie Mouse Hunt?
In the movie Mouse Hunt two men inherit a mansion only to find it has a small mouse living in it. In an attempt to get rid of the mouse they essentially destroy the entire home. So imagine me and the cat chasing the mouse all over the bedroom while also trying to be super quiet and not wake Alex while the mouse and cat run up the curtains which surround the bed, go under the bed, etc etc. This is one of many many many times I thought to myself that I really need a camera crew to follow me around because my life is hilarious. We (Cat who I am sorry I did not properly introduce, his name is The Great Catsby and I) did NOT catch the mouse but we did manage to wake Alex up. He stands up, sees me chasing the cat who is chasing the mouse and the two dogs who are following us both and starts laughing and shaking his head. I try to explain my plan and he is just laughing harder.
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So Alex walks to the patio door that leads out to the pool deck and opens it up and says “did you try letting the mouse outside? Or your twisted brain when straight to murder?” And that ladies and gentleman is where we stand… apparently my brain goes straight to murder? What is wrong with me? The mouse went right out when he opened the door and looked relieved frankly to be given the option. The cat was put back outside to terrorize the local wildlife and I am left to ponder my homicidal instincts.
Since sadly my blog budget does not yet allow for a full time camera crew to capture my every day hi jinks (whomp whomp whomp sad trombone) I have included these photos of me with a less murderous kitty because Catsby does not like to be held and/or photographed (he may be wanted by law enforcement) and one without the cat because we hadn’t gotten to the cat part of the story yet so ya there you go. Also the polka dot dress is available on my blog shop if you just have to have it or whatever, it’s pretty cute. The cat is not for sale, sorry.