I woke up to a mouse scurrying around in my kitchen, then I saw this dying mouse in my garage when I was leaving. I should mention that not only was I eating a pb and fluff sandwich--the same colors as the mouse, but the mouse was still breathing, stuck to the trap, and if that's not gross enough, it squeaked. I got in the car and screamed. Then sat there closed off from the mouse to decide what to do. And by that I mean, I called my mom. She suggested I box him up. So he's now in a box, and then the box is sealed in 2 bags. I feel nauseous and dirty all over. I washed my hands like I was scrubbing for surgery, even though I only touched the outside of the cardboard box and used a flattened cereal box as a scoop. Worst. Morning. Ever.
