You might remember my little furry friend, and my posturing about what to do to get rid of him. As seasoned observers of me could probably have predicted, I chose the path of least resistance, that of peaceful coexistence (okay, I was too lazy to do anything about Mr Mouse, apologies if it is actually Mrs, Ms or Miss Mouse). All of which means that this week he was once more terrorising my bathroom. I'm not sure what is so exciting about the underneath of my bath, but Mousey (a pleasantly unisex description) is fascinated by it. It is one of those enclosed tubs, so I don't get to experience the wonders that Mousey does. I have to admit is a little bit unnerving to sit on the toilet, with your knickers around your ankles, knowing that the mouse is scurrying about a couple of feet away. Still, we seem to be getting on okay at the moment.
On the subject of fur, well mice have fur so it's all most on topic, I gave myself my quarterly haircut last night, well hair is like fur so it's almost on topic. The result of which is that I've gone from looking like a fluffy haired fool, to looking like a fuzzy haired retard/asylum escapee. At least that is what the front of my hair looks like, who knows how much of an abortion I made of the back. (That phrase suddenly strikes me as very odd, can abortion really have a qualifier? If it can what would half an abortion look like? Actually, it is probably best not to dwell on questions like that.) The one remaining haircut related question I have is why is furlessness not a word, whereas hairlessness is a word. I think it is discriminatory.
On a completely unrelated note, the skin on my right knuckle is incredibly dry. I can't work out why it is only the skin on my right knuckle that is so dry. I mean, what do I do with only my right hand? Okay having asked that question the obvious answer springs immediately to mind, well to my mind at least. But that is meant to make you go blind not give you a dry patch of skin on your right hand. Unless of course God realised that the practise is now so widespread that blindness was an excessive punishment, so he downgraded it to a bout of dry skin.
In yet more completely unrelated news, I saw, from looking at the usage statistics of this blog (which I spend far too much of my life looking at), that somebody spent a long time looking at the site today, after searching for Victorian's Midnight Cafe. They were someone from Columbus, so now I have to wonder are they someone I know? And if they are someone I know, did I write something that I shouldn't have, as I'm sometimes prone to do after drinking one, or maybe two, more than I should before writing an entry. I suppose only time will tell, or not as the case maybe. It gives me something to think about at least, which is nice as I spent all day in bed today with a nasty stomach bug/ailment/thingy. Hopefully tomorrow will bring me a more healthy tummy.