they're surprisingly, astonishingly adorable.
|Introducing Michael Noodle (solid) and Michael Fruit (white spots)!|
Addie had pet mice while he was in college, and has been talking about getting some pet mice since we moved in. And, being of sound body and mind, I said no. Because pet mice are roughly the same size and speed of the mice that I'd find dead behind my bed or in my shoes when my parents rented that 1800's era farm house off the Manassas battlefield. Also, see: my irrational mouse fears.
"No fucking way. No mice." was my response.
But, I finally caved under the conditions that he get an escape proof cage and that I never have to interact with them.
And while I was busy holding the puppies that I am in no physical, emotional, or financial place to own but was 100% adamant that I deserved and was obligated to rescue (I even tried to justify it by telling myself that buying a puppy when I can't adequately provide for it would be something scary that I'd do that day), Addie picked out two new buddies and we went home.
Once I saw them playing together and running around, my heart totally softened. I even held Noodle for a good 15 seconds before I started shuddering uncontrollably.
|mice are really hard to photograph|
|Noodle was the first to figure out the wheel and is now obsessed with it. Fruit is like, yeah, that's stupid. I love Fruit.|
|I mean, seriously. How is this not the cutest fucking thing?|
Also, Bart has been mostly oblivious toward them, except for one instance last night, when he completely lost his shit. Like, we might as well have had a cage full of Reese Trees and Beefy Sticks for how enthusiastic and rabid he was about getting to it. We have since put the mice in a safe zone.
But, knowing Engineer Bart... we'll see how long the safety zone stays intact.
And, just for funsies, we stuck Bart in socks, which made him the saddest Dog in the world:
haha, it was like watching an AT AT walker when we finally convinced him to get off the futon. I think I laughed for a good 20 minutes.
And, completely unrelated to pets, I attempted my mom's potato soup last night. This is what it looked like before I put too much stock in it and made it less potato soup and more soupe toscana. :/
OH, and speaking of getting better, my co-worker's husband, aka the Professional Chef and Restauranteur, gave me a vegetable chopping lesson. And I'm totally kicking ass at chopping veggies. (and, thanks to my mom, I have a zippy new automatic veggie chopper for the onions, so I don't burn my eyes out anymore. yay!)
I'm still doing little things that terrify me everyday. They're little, moral victories, but they're still good ones. Like, styling my hair myself and taking it out in public, approaching someone I have been too nervous to talk to for the last few years, holding a mouse, making potato soup, giving away clothes that are ruined with age, and wear and tear but that I love and need anyway, cutting vegetables in front of strangers. I've been doing well.
Hey--maybe I will reward myself with that puppy!*
*no, I won't. This is a terrible idea.