The mice are pretending to be lions. Matt is going to be at work. And I am going to spend my day with a pretty, pretty princess girl drinking rosy tea with her animal friends.
Have fun. Play nice.
My computer speakers are picking up radio signals. I know, three weeks without an entry and here I am typing about radio signals. Anti-climatic, isn't it.
I think I'm starting to with the war with the roaches. On Sunday I picked up some of those sticky Hoy Hoy roach motels and have scattered them around the apartment. Before I moved in Matt used those Combat poison traps, which I don't especially care for since you really don't know how effective it is and you don't know exactly where they're crawling off to die. Personally I like the satisfaction of seeing the number of casualites build up and having them in one handy disposable box.
This Friday I'm dusting off my horns and tagging along with my brother and niece, Sarah, as she goes trick-or-treating. Even though I'm not actually trick-or-treating I think my mother is still somewhat embarrassed that her grown daughter will be walking around house to house with horns on her head.
Mr. Chad is off in Oregon and until I can figure out how to knit a pair of warm fuzzy mittens to match his scarf, I'm very much tempted to mail him cans of spam at random. He's written to tell me the shared kitchen of his dormatory appears to not have been used in ages making it suspect. So I suppose if I send him any random food items it'll have to be something that doesn't require cooking to avoid risk of fire or explosion.
While Matt and I were in Vegas it seems that some little critters have moved in. I think the only thing that tops a flying cockroach landing on your arm while you're trying to fall asleep (after killing one of its friends earlier that evening) would be being suddenly woken up by your wife flailing her arms around yelling "Get off! Get off!" and seeing the little guy take cover under your pillow.
Bleary eyed with a questionable car battery which isn't quite dead, but failed to start the car when we got off the plane, Matt and I are back from Vegas. No suitcase full of cash, but Matt did manage to convert me into a craps addict (minus the superstitions). We still have a list of trip related things to do: unpack, sort through built up mail, and pick up my mice, but for now I'm just going to curl up in and go to sleep.