Wednesday, February 9

Sleep with one eye open

The mice are back. And badder than before!

Sorry, I couldn't resist; it's the sleep deprivation. I don't consider myself an easily frightened person, but apparently tiny rodents reduce to me a quivering mass of anxiety. Or maybe it's just being woken at 2 a.m. by the sound of vicious burrowing that's a trifle unsettling. Either way, I found myself huddled on my bed like an idiot, trying to determine the best course of action when all I really wanted to do was sleep. I could try the couch, but as the mice have been spotted in the living room, that was a no-go. I could cry like a girl and beg the mice to leave me in peace. (Okay, I actually tried that and it didn't work.) Or I could attempt to make myself as small as possible (watch a grown woman make herself into a tiny ball!), turn the light on, leave it on, and pray that sleep would take me before the mice did. I went with the last option. Except I hate sleeping with the light on. I make exhaustive use of shades and curtains in my bedroom much as a vampire would to protect herself from the rays of the sun. I don't even like the hall light on when I'm sleeping. (There's this great quote from After Leaving Mr. Mackenzie by Jean Rhys that goes something like: "She wasn't afraid in the dark, but she was afraid in the light." It's a great book, by the way, and much better than Wide Sargasso Sea.) Suffice it to say, I was definitely afraid both in the dark and in the light last night. I hate irrational fear. It really pisses me off. So sleeping wasn't all that easy as I alternated between terror and self-loathing. It was good times -- just me and the mice.

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