I was feeding my second grader chocolate milk and crackers when I turned to put the crackers away and found a splay footed, blind newborn mouse on the floor. It was about the size of my thumbjoint, helpless and befuddled. I got a plastic cup and a piece of paper and deposited this tiny thing outside the fence where there are other field mice making a living.
Here's the thing, we're killing mice with snappy traps because my dislike of vermin has surpassed my soft heart. But I couldn't kill anything that small. If I were tough enough, these mice would all have been trapped to extinction. So now I have to worry (a) about this tiny mouse making it and (b) all his brothers and sisters being born in their scores and leaving poop in my pantry and my silverwear drawers, eating my paper towels for bedding, and making my coat closet smell like a hamster cage. Because I am not quite firm enough in my anti-mouse campaign. I managed to quit my job, but I feel I'm being commandeered/bullied/wheedled/guilted into working past when I wanted to-- because I have difficulty in setting limits and I feel badly they're so short-staffed. I'm just one flaming ball of diffidence lately.
I was going to post on bagging my 5-F workout for today. I reminded myself it's just half an hour, I'm not really too tired, I can go light if necessary-- well I did it even though it was 9:30 pm. So that's a line in the sand. Now all I need is a pair of kittens and something heavy to run over my Blackberry.
How's your resolve holding up these days?