I do need grease, however. I was kept up half the night by the continuous, high pitched, squeak of a wheel. A little mouse, running on his little wheel, squeaking his little squeak, invading my sweet little dreams. Not a metaphor, my dear reader, this was reality.
Big L saved up his money and bought a small, gray mouse yesterday, along with some mouse accessories, including a running wheel. Cute as a button and not much bigger, but goodness, he does run and squeak. I had no idea that an eight-week-old mouse had such stamina. I’m mouse-sitting right now while the kids are at Vacation Bible School. His name is Nampff, named so because his master likes the letters ‘N’ and ‘F.’
Note to self: buy some DW-40 today, so I don’t have to lock the mouse cage in the bathroom again to block out the everlasting squeaking of the wheel. I just need to get a decent night’s sleep.
Note to pet store owners: don’t sell squeaky wheels.
