Mrs. Frisby has also been transmuted to a new level of existence. May they be reborn in a nice big mousy field.
Saturday started out okay, but still, I felt like I was caught in a Jackie Chan movie. I worked on Sunday's service, amid other errands, was an hour late to set up for the Holiday Party at the church and ended up leaving after just two hours. I ran around looking for a CD with a song that I wanted to play Sunday and couldn't find at home due to said re-organization, only to discover that "A Child's Celebration of Christmas" with "The Takeover Before Christmas" by Odds Bodkin on it, was out of print. I went home to download it only to discover that I had incorrectly saved all the work I had done earlier on Sunday's service and had to re-create it. It was a good, creative process, but I still didn't get done until about 2:00 am. All my good intentions to go to bed early were flushed down the black hole with all my 0s and 1s.
So Sunday morning, I'm scrambling around to find people to fill parts for my skit that I was doing that morning with no rehearsal, I knocked over a basket of ornaments, my cell phone (the infamous 'All Aboard' from Crazy Train) goes off during a major song by our choir, and the play goes very stiltedly. I end up passing on a committment that was important to me and going home. That went pretty well, I did laundry, took a long, hot bath and went to bed relatively early. Asleep by 10:00 pm.
Then Herman struck. You were wondering when I was going to get to Herman, weren't you? Herman is our mouse. Herman has a mansion somewhere in the strata and structure of our townhouse building. Herman has built the mouse super-highway with exits in every major room of our home (with large, orange caution cones around all of our fancy mouse traps).
Herman decided that he needed to redecorate Sunday night at midnight. I don't know what I'm missing ('cause everything is in boxes and I can't find a fracking thing), but Herman dragged something very large down to his little mouse mansion. I woke up to his huffing, puffing and crinkling noises, turned on the light and watched said item disapear behind my dresser. I'm hoping it was just a big page of a magazine to shred and bed down in, because if it wasn't Herman is Super Mouse. He can leap tall 11 year olds in a single bound, he's faster than a speeding scream. Light doesn't phase Herman. He lets out a piercing squeek, which I interpret as "Thanks. It was hard working in the dark.", waves his claw of steel and keeps working.
So, I get up and run down stairs to get my phone and place an emergency call to a girlfriend who is up at this hour for sage advice. Herman followed and continued construction underneath our modified entertainment center. Apparently the re-organization has had an impact on his super-highway and he is working over-time to make sure all the little mouse families can visit each other for the holidays. I think our home might be a hub, like the Atlanta airport.
This was clearly not one of my bravest moments in life as I went from standing outside in my robe to calling my husband at work shrieking like a...well, like a semi-hysterical, very over-tired woman. Husband arrived armed with steel wool and more traps and well...protectiveness. Sometimes I can be fierce and people shouldn't mess with me, but sometimes it's nice to be protected, even from Herman.