Briskly awoke to tank through the latest Bioshock Infinite DLC, I can't believe it's now been a whole year since my favourite game of 2013 came out - how time flies. Dropped in at uni for a 'Meet the professionals' seminar that lasted the whole afternoon. Essentially it was a great networking opportunity, saw a few names in ITV and broadcast and even got to sit down an chat with some of them about how to get my foot in the door.
When I got home I was high on social adrenaline - it's been a while since I felt so chatty with other people and course mates, it gave me a physical burst of energy that left me running around the kitchen while making stir-fry. Dashed upstairs to finish up on all our documentary per-production work when Lucy let out a blood curdling scream. My mind darted to assume the worst. A bugler?! A Corpse?! Jamie clogged the toilet?!
It was a mouse.
Lucy's knee-jerk reaction to her fear was entirely understandable, I would have done the same if there were a tarantula roaming around. Fortunately, I'm fine with dealing with rodents. At least I told myself that. My memories took me back to one time I was watching Wind in the Willows in our first house when Dad caught a mouse. He made it look so easy that I told myself that this would be a simple task. That was until Lucy told me it scuttled into the cesspit known as 'Jamie's Bedroom.'
Oof. So many places for a mouse to hide in there, piles of dirty laundry, piles of clean laundry, guitar cases, dirty dishes, gym bags and Amazon parcel wrapping. I armed myself with a toy golf club and picked up each object at arms length, gave it a wiggle, then put it up on the bed. Suffice to say, this continued for quite some time.
Riding on the courage I found within myself from watching the Lee Evan's comedy classic 'Mousehunt' I persevered. I stuck my club under a chest of drawers and the rodent shot out behind a cabinet. I knew where he was now. I successfully flushed him out of there are prepped the box my nerf gun arrived in to scoop up the bugger. It dashed into the hallway but was trapped, desperately, it squeezed under the door into the downstairs toilet and made it's last stand behind the toilet brush. Mercifully, I poked around one last time and coaxed him into the box, took him outside to a few streets away and let him out into a bush.
I returned home knowing that I had done something that previously, my Dad would have to do for us. Stepping back through the front door, I felt older somehow.
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