There's a fine line between rural and urban and although most of the time I like the grey area - there's one thing that will make me shriek like a little girl who just smashed her pointer finger in a car jack. Mice.
When we started our blog Dallyn and I made strict rules that we weren't to blog about what we were about to do, and instead, what we have done. This was to put our parents at ease and to distance and creepers who may or may not be actual creepers.
Anyway. Dallyn and I went to our respective homes for Christmas. Dallyn to the NW part of the state and myself to to the snow covered corn fields of Indiana.
So on the way home - mid St. Louis (I'm sure while having a dance party to Akon's Angel) - Dallyn calls to tell me to get home. fast.
Our house had been broken into. By a herd. of Mice.
We had been violated.
I don't know about you, but I find this to be extremely rude.
Unless their posse includes a few large turtles, they are not invited back.
You hear that you little Mickey Mouse wanna-be's? We called the rodent guy and he's not going to take it!