Friday, April 25, 2008

The Pink Mouse

Our San Diego house had a little room we called "Hell's Kitchen", partially because it was lower than the rest of the kitchen, but mostly because its journey from an ill-designed laundry room to a proud kitchen space caused us many headaches. (It all began when the gas line leaked. Then the electrical shorted out. We tore out the walls, rerouted gas, electricity, and water; re-sheetrocked, textured, painted; and then tried to find cabinets that would match the rest of the kitchen. Eventually, it was transformed from a weird laundry space to our much-loved bar/butler's pantry.)

Before Hell's Kitchen was a laundry room, it was the garage, so the foundation and walls weren't clean and finished. Near the doorway, the stub wall foundation wasn't square, so where the drywall met the foundation wall, there was a bit of a hole. The rest of the space seemed clean and finished, and then there was this dark cob-webby hole with a little chicken wire visible. I always thought it was a bit of an eye sore, so a couple of Thanksgivings ago, my mom suggested that I put something in there, like a mouse, to make fun of it. We'd had a few glasses of wine, and it was good for a few laughs.

For Christmas that year, we received a funny-looking little pink mouse with a gold bell at the end of its tail and a card that read "maybe it was one too many glasses of wine, but it sounded like a good idea at the time". We thought, for sure, she'd lost it. Maybe she found this little pink rope mouse one evening after one too many glasses of wine or something. I mean, how else could you explain a pink mouse and that note? After a few days of laughing at this mouse, I got up the courage to ask "So, about that mouse..." and I found out that the laugh was on me.

Now we have had so much fun laughing at ourselves for laughing at the mouse, that it has become a central part of our lives. It was important to me that the mouse find a satisfactory hole in our new home. As it turns out, it wasn't all that hard to find. Old homes just have unexplained holes that need to be lightened by a little pink mouse.
Thanks, Mom!

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