Recalling past events can often bring back awful memories. One time, I had to face a situation that absolutely terrified me. I am sure it is a fear that lurks in the subconscious of every homemaker and mother. Well, one day, that particular horror left the realm of the subconscious and became a reality. I found a mouse in the garage when I went out to do the laundry.
That morning, I went out to do the first load of the day and as I pulled the wet laundry out of the washer and dumped it into the dryer, I noticed SOMETHING. Close inspection showed it to be a very wet, pretty much deceased mouse. I stood back, calmly assessed the situation and then screamed. Looking back, I cannot accurately remember exactly what I wailed but it brought my children running.
We all gathered around the washer and peered at the most unwelcome laundry guest. I got a pair of tongs, a plastic bag, a box, and a fish net but couldn’t decide who would retrieve the mouse. Actually, I had already determined that I wasn’t going to do it! I gravely turned to my then eight-year-old son and said, “When your dad isn’t here, we consider you the man of the house . . .” With intuition born of necessity, my son replied, “Forget it! I don’t do mice!”
My six year old daughter volunteered to hold the box if I purchased her a new book. My four year old daughter stood back and declared, “I think we should name the mouse Luke . . .”
We finally decided to run our unwanted friend through a rinse cycle to confirm the actual time of death. My son did get the mouse out for me, the six year old shut the box on it, and I tied the whole works up in a plastic bag and the final resting place was the outside trash can. My four year old, continued her one-person conversation, and said, “Maybe, we could name her Sally . . .”