TWAS the weekend before Christmas and all through the house not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. Cards all sent, presents wrapped. My wannabe yummy Christmas is falling into place.
Well, it was.
Until I looked out on to my patio and saw Marvin with his party hat on.
Yep. There always has to be one. The black sheep. The one that you would rather cross the road from than spend a single second with. Rude, greedy, messy and simply a creature that no one ever wants to sit next to, let alone talk to.
Every family suffers with at least one at some point and with the season of goodwill upon us, now is as bad a time as any for them to make an uninvited visit.
Marvin the mouse has decided to make a guest appearance for Christmas. It's bad enough that I may have left a few (million) little things to do this weekend aside from worrying myself stupid about where he might try and root his little cheesy little nose for a sniff of our festive pud.
To make matters worse, I have a totally irrational fear of all things Marvinlike. They scare me senseless. I know it's ridiculous, I know he won't really eat me but nevertheless I don't like him and that's it. I was never a fan of Roland the creepy Rat and frankly do not like sharing my living space with humans, let alone a dirty little squeaky creature. So to see him proudly dance a four-step outside my patio door is pure torture. He may as well be wielding an axe. The worst thing is I swear I can hear him laughing at me over my silent screams.
I instantly send the Man to have a chat. It might be Christmas but there is no room at this inn. Like any unwanted guest, boundaries must be set and I am clearly too emotional to do it. I tell the Man I am not interested in the finer details, I just want him to make the rodent stick to his side of the glass.
After ten minutes explaining to Marvin the inconvenience he is causing and no doubt the practicalities of why he must leave, the Man returns indoors, assuring me Marvin the Mouse will not be causing a scene. I breath a cautious sigh of relief.
Another ten minutes later and a loud CRACK makes me jump five feet in the air. The Man is sitting there grinning and muttering about chocolate being better than cheese or some rubbish.
That poor mouse….. I shoot The Man a dirty look. Doesn't he know it's Christmas at all?
