Not too clear on what this is? (It's kind of like those macro images they used to have on the back of Owl and Chickadee magazines. What are we looking at exactly?) Well, that my friends, is the tail our new friend Hubert, the dead mouse. He is going to hang out with us for a while, rotting in our wall, assuring that we'll never forget him by plaguing us with the ghost of his lingering smell. We're too chicken shit to push his tail further underneath the floorboard, so in the meantime, we've positioned our garbage can so that his tail is (mostly) obscured from view. Natty likes to talk to Hubert while she's cooking.
(Damn you Canadian Tire! The only reason I bought the wrong mouse killing stuff is because your store directory is incorrect! When I went to the aisle that promised to provide me with pest control products, all I found was pet food. I didn't want to keep an animal alive--I wanted to kill one! So by the time I actually found the pest control aisle by wandering around your new mega-store, I just wanted to get out of there and grabbed the first thing I saw. I'm beginning to wish I bought the super expensive contraption that plugs into the wall and emits high-frequency sounds that allegedly keep mice and rats away. Sigh. Hubert had to die. After all, his full name is Hubert Hanta. As in, Hantavirus. I live in fear.)
But, if I'm looking on the bright side of things, my eyelashes finally grew back in. (Only days before I got this ridiculous virus, I had been complaining to Natty that I had a bad habit of picking mascara clumps off my eyelashes during class, which results in me tearing eyelashes out on a daily basis. The eyelashes on my right eye were beginning to look so sparse that I was wishing for an excuse not to wear makeup so that they would grow back in. Be careful what you wish for.)