If you are one of the people to whom I complained earlier this summer when I got back from LA that my apartment truly smelled like death and was absolutely horrid, I have an update for you. This morning I thought it was kind of cute that the cats seemed to have overturned the corner of the living room rug and Trouble was sleeping on the folded-over corner (typical Trouble behavior: never slept on this side of the rug behavior - better try it). It wasn't until I came out of the shower that Trish pointed out to me that there was a dead mouse that one of the cats must've hidden under the rug. She blamed Trouble but I'm sure it was Renee Zellweger. Trouble can hardly breathe on his own, let alone catch, kill, and hide a mouse. I stood there, wet, naked, and wrapped in towels, and stared at the mouse with Trish, who was dressed but had wet hair. This mouse looked like it'd been under the rug for a long time - it was all dried out and completely flattened from being repeatedly tread on. That thought gives me shudders - someone was the first person to do it and it might've been me. I said it was like a mouse pancake. Trish said it looked like a little mouse rug.
We both decided to leave it there and go to our respective works.
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