Fool me twice, shame on me ...

Every time I try to log into Blogger, I type "" into the search bar. And every time I do that, I start cackling like a moron because I'm 25 years-old and still think boogers are funny.

Anyway, it happened again.

Monday night Clayton burst into our bedroom, disturbing my slumber, and shook me awake. "Courtney!" he hissed. "Guess what I found in the bathtub?"

Oh, not. Not again.

"Please," I moaned, rubbing sleep from my eyes. "Tell me it's not a ..."

"A MOUSE!" he giggled, turning around and rushing back out of the bedroom. (Yes, my husband giggles. It's the freakin' cutest thing ever. That's how you can tell when he thinks something is really funny. I've been tempted to secretly  record it and post it on the Internet, but I know he would indeed kill me ... or start his own blog for the sole purpose of exploiting my own embarrassing secrets. Not like I have any ...)

"I'm tired. I don't care. Just get rid of it," I called after him as I rolled over on my side to go back to sleep. A few seconds later I heard the unmistakable sound of a plastic Pizza Express cup hitting bathtub as Clayton tried to scoop up our little visitor and dispose of him outside. Several attempts later and judging by the increased force of the cup smacking around in the tub, I assumed Clayton was having trouble catching the mouse. Curiosity got the better of me and I climbed out of bed to investigate. When I opened the bedroom door, I was intercepted by Clayton making a mad dash out of the bathroom and out of the front door. I followed behind and watched as he poured the bewildered mouse out of the cup. The mouse darted down the breezeway, unsure of how he so abruptly ended up outside. 

Joey, of course, came barreling out the door to see what the commotion was, and I suddenly had a dream of seeing my dog chase a mouse. "Get it, Joey!" I shrieked, pointing in the general direction of the mouse. At this point the mouse frantically scampered onto our neighbor's welcome mat and stared up at us in terror.  "Right there, Joey! Right there!" I said again, squatting down to eye-level and pointing harder at the rodent. Joey made a leap for it, missing the mouse completely, and ended up licking the neighbor's door.

"Worst. Hunting. Dog. Ever." Clayton sighed.

We went back inside the apartment and Clayton followed me into the bedroom so he could tuck me in again. "So do you think that was the same mouse, or a different one?" I asked, searching the sheets for any of his friends. "If it's the same one, I wonder why he was stupid enough to go into the bathtub again?"

"If it's the same mouse," Clayton replied, "I'm going to start charging him rent."

Yes, we are definitely making a call to the apartment manager.