Matt likes to joke that we each need our own seperate rooms. Not seperate bedrooms mind you, but rather rooms of our own where we can toss our respective junk and do what we wish with it. The last time he mentioned it was yesterday while eye-balling my piles of stuff which have slowly been creeping over from my desk onto the floor and into the entire living room space. Although it does not excuse the present mess, I'd like to say that I'm not as bad as I used to be, also he knew the kind of girl he was marrying (having seen and survived the nightmare of my dorm room). The point of this whole paragraph: Cleaning up (at least partially) is on my list of "things to do before Sunday" (and perhaps posting about it will help me to stick to it).

The new mice are growing quickly and are looking more like cute and furry mice instead of tiny naked pink mice. Several people have asked out of curiousity what I'm going to do with the mice. I assumed that even though it was unstated the answer was obvious: I'm keeping them. (I do offer the people who ask a mouse of their own, but they always give me a horrified look and quickly say, "no.") Later today, Matt and I are stopping over at Pet's Discount during our run of errands to pick up a second tank and various mouse supplies to later put the males in when they're older. I really don't mind having several mice. This is my second run with owning a pair of mice and I'd rather see the numbers unexpectantly jump to nine instead of dropping down to one again.