Today was long. The dead body and the dog attack put me on edge (I will explain later). I went into my bathroom to get cleaned up and brush my teeth. Then I saw him. My guest returned. Better yet, the mouse hadn’t left. We stared at each other. I shrugged a “what to do” sigh and decided I would chase him out of my bedroom after I was ready for bed.
When I was cozy in jammies, I turned the place upside down, digging through the suitcases under my bed with the intention of coaxing the little guy into his own private bedroom or kitchen for the night.
I spent an hour shuffling though things to find him. By 2:30am, I gave up and hopped into bed, tired and over it. The second I pulled the covers under my chin, my friend scurried across the floor and under my bed where I had been looking all along. I was too tired to move.
I let him stay. Now I am never lonely and I think the thought of sharing my room has grown on me. We now have pillow talk and play sleepover games. I even let him invite his friends to crash at my place. Maybe I am a good host, or maybe I am losing it.