See this innocent wooden skewer? Well, last night it had me jumping out of bed (in the dark) screaming.
Why, you ask? Well, sit back and relax, because after the story you might not be able to relax.
The week before Christmas I was rushing around to get my boys off to school. It was a chilly morning, so I watched for the bus from the front door. As soon as the bus pulled away I noticed that the boys had left their bedroom lights on. Which is a cardinal sin in our house. Punishable by loss of computer time. So I went upstairs to turn off the lights. And then I remembered it was Tuesday. And Tuesday is the day I strip the bed and wash the sheets. (It used to be Friday, but with Spenser's new preschool schedule this year, it is Tuesday. It's subject to change next year when Sawyer starts preschool.)
So, as I picked up Joe's pillow to take off the pillowcase I noticed something. It was a freaking mouse sitting on my bed between our pillows. (See, I warned you that you wouldn't be able to relax after reading this.) Well, being the Lera that I am, I screamed. And then I screamed again. And then, because I am very good at screaming, I screamed again for good measure. I picked up the phone to call Joe, but soon realized I was on a corded phone. In a room with a mouse on the loose. I hung up the phone and ran to the kitchen and placed a frantic 9-1-1 call to Joe.
At first he couldn't understand me because I was so hysterical. I had to repeat myself. Luckily he had stopped for gas after leaving the house and was still local-ish. He came right back home. In the meantime, I sat in a chair in the dining room with my head in my hands, rocking back and forth, saying, "Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! OH MY GOSH!!" repeatedly until I heard him come home. I was on the verge of losing all sanity.
To make a long story short, we found the mouse. And his friend. And I nearly moved out of my bedroom. I wanted to sleep in the family room, in the rocking chair. My mother suggested I find a way to suspend the rocking chair from the ceiling and I did contemplate the logistics of it. It just wasn't going to work.
So, what does this have to do with the wooden skewer? Well, you can imagine the uneasiness I feel every time I walk into my bedroom. (Yes, it has been two weeks. I realize this. But I have been sorely violated.) Last night as I rubbed lotion on my raw hands, Joe turned off the lamp. As I nestled into bed and slithered down the sheets, I felt something strange between my legs. Within a split second I was screaming, jumping out of bed, turning on my lamp and throwing down the blankets to discover ... a wooden skewer.
Never have I been happier to see a toy in my bed. It reminds me of the rubber and plastic bugs the boys put in my bed after the big lice incident. I laughed at each one. (Until a few months had passed and the bug placements stopped and suddenly started again.) I don't think anyone put the skewer in my bed on purpose. And Joe wonders how I made the bed with it there without noticing. My defense is that I had "helpers" (Spenser and Sawyer) making the bed and it just wasn't as perfect as it usually is.
(We think the mice hitched a ride up the laundry shoot that is in our closet. I am seriously considering getting rid of the sucker. It brings more harm than good.)