Before I started writing, I often wondered would I have enough to say to write stories and would the ideas come to me. I remember a pastor talking about having grace when you need it. He said, “We don’t need dying grace today, but it will be there when we need it”. Well, inspiration is like that too. During the last 20 years, a few stories came, but the shower of words and thoughts didn’t start until I started to write. Now, thoughts for stories are constantly running though my mind.
The other night, I woke-up at 3 AM and started to chuckle about “the mouse”. I was remembering back in 2002 when Floyd had told me 50 million times not to feed the children in the playroom because field mice would come for the crumbs. We lived outside of Morenci in Southern Michigan at the time and were surrounded by corn, wheat and soybean crops. Among the country locals, the mice coming into your house after the fields were harvested was a “given”. I considered what they said was mighty close to “folk lore”.
Now…. I had two toddlers and to take them from the playroom to the dining room for a snack was more than I wanted to do. Even though it was just after the fall harvest, I doubted if mice could even smell a few cookie crumbs. Besides, the 10-12 outdoor cats would get the mice before they made it into the house.
One night that fall, I was the last one downstairs and I went to straighten up the playroom. The kids put away most of their toys, but no way can a 3 and a 4 year old clean up as well as I could. So, I bent down to pick up a toy bowl and there I was eyeball to eyeball with a mouse!!
I didn’t dare yell for Floyd to come and help. The last thing I wanted to hear was a million variations of “I told you so!!”
I kept eye contact so that the mouse would remain frozen in his tracks. I slowly and quietly lowered myself to a kneeling position and reached out with my right hand and slowly grabbed the bowl and WHAM!!! I slammed the bowl over the mouse. Now what???
I looked around and spotted a thin preschool book. It was just out of reach from my right hand which was on the bowl. So I quickly swapped hands on the bowl and inched the book towards me with my finger tips. I got it!! Then I deftly shoved the book under the bowl and stood up with my left hand under the book and my right hand on top of the bowl. Now what??
I couldn’t let it go outside, it might get back in the house. It had to die, but how?
My mind was racing, my eyes were darting back and forth around the house. I felt the blood rush to my face and then my “personal summer” flooded my body (I was 54 at the time.) . What to do??
Then it hit me like a ton of bricks! FLUSH! FLUSH!!
I’d flush him down the toilet. I went into the bathroom and stood by the toilet. I knew the procedure had to be quick and flawless or I’d end up with a loose mouse in the house or the mouse jumping out of the toilet bowl on me.
I raised my knee up to flush the toilet. No way was I going to lift my right hand off the bowl holding the mouse. Then I lowered the book and bowl into the toilet as the water was swirling and making its plunge to the septic tank. Then I released the mouse and it rapidly went down, down, down.
Then I had a anxious thought, “Can mice swim against the current??” I didn’t know and I couldn’t think straight so I just stood there and flushed at least six times before I went up to bed and snuggled next to Floyd like nothing had happened.
Sometimes country folk and husbands are the bearers of Truth.
Proverbs 1: 30-31 They did not accept my counsel, they despised all my reproof, therefore let them eat the fruit of their own way, and be filled with their own counsels.