Ireland: Part II (the part that sucked)
We spent the rest of the week in an apartment just outside of Galway. It was only a 10-minute walk to the city center, which is pretty much perfect. So we poked around in the city on Monday, and on Tuesday we went out to Connemara National Park and tromped around on some hills and bogs and such. But that afternoon, Julie came down with strep throat. When we were finally able to get her to the doctor on Thursday, he was actually shocked by how bad her throat was. And he's a doctor. The doctor gave her a prescription for some wacky European antibiotics, so by Friday she was able to function. (Which was good because she was the only one who knew how to drive the car.) Then Saturday morning we got on a plane and came home. Blast. I guess I'll just have to go back to Ireland again and do the trip right next time. That means more tromping around on stuff and more Guinness and Irish boys, of course.

Embracing my girlie side
Sometimes I really love my job. I'm going to a press event on Wednesday, and it includes getting a free manicure and pedicure at the spa at Bergdorf Goodman. Bergdorf Goodman! A Fifth Avenue department store so expensive I'm a little afraid to go in it. This is going to be even better than when I got free hair cuts from students at Bumble and bumble.

But I'm still a bad ass
So there was a mouse in my apartment. I discovered this Thursday night at about 11:30. I'd been asleep almost half an hour when I woke up to DG screaming my name. It was really more of a screech with a high-pitched Southern drawl. Holy shit, is someone breaking into the apartment? Is my roommate being attacked? I start preparing for the worst as I roll out of bed and stagger toward the hallway in my semi-conscious state. "There's a mouse in my room!" I open the door to DG's room, and she's standing on top of her bed still screeching. "Do something! It went that way! Is it still there!" She's pointing to the doorway I'm standing in. Yes, I'm sure the mouse scampered under your door and is waiting ever so quietly around the corner for me to catch it. "No, under there!" She points to her bedside table and proceeds to pull it away from the wall, almost toppling over a variety of lamps and knick knacks. She then jumps back closer to the center of the bed as if the mouse is going to leap all the way up there and attack her. I'm not exactly charming when you wake me up, so I basically tell her to shut up and stop freaking out. I'm sure all the screaming scared the mouse away. And it's not a big deal. It's a mouse. It's really tiny, and it doesn't eat people. (And it's not like it's a mole or anything.) I'll buy some traps. The traps will kill the mouse. End of story.

So yesterday on my way home from work, I bought a few traps, baited them with tasty processed American cheese and put them under the kitchen sink and other places that seem like good hang outs for a mouse. This morning, I checked the traps. No dead mouse. And the cheese was still there, so it didn't seem like we were dealing with one of the crazy smart mice that know how to eat the food off the trap without springing it. Then around 9:30, I walk over to the kitichen sink. I don't remember what I was looking for. But there were some dishes in the sink that DG hadn't washed. (I refuse to be her mom and clean up after her.) And that's when I see it. Sitting on the edge of a plate is a half wet mouse.

I blink and look again. Yep, definitely the mouse. It is seiously so small. It's not moving, and I can't tell if it's alive or not. But I act fast and flip over a bowl that's in the sink and trap the mouse between the bowl and the plate. Well, shit, what do I do now? The plate was full of water, and I'm hoping the mouse will drown if it's not dead already. Then I realize that's probably not going to happen, as there's only like a quarter inch of water. I decide I need to take the whole thing outside and throw it away. I go get my keys from my room. I pick up the plate and hold the bowl down to make sure the mouse doesn't escape. I move the bowl over a little and see a tail, so I know it's still there. There's still water in the plate (and a few floating lima beans, which I'm sure are the reason the mouse was in the sink to begin with. If you're so afraid of mice, DG, don't leave out food to attract them. Thanks!). The water's sloshing all over, and I realized that if I try to unlock my door while holding the plate, I might tip everything and let the mouse loose.

So I walk down the hall (still holding the plate/bowl/mouse) and wake up Alexis. I tell her I caught the mouse, and I need her help. Of course, she starts freaking out. I'll I need is for her to walk with me and open the doors. When she opens the door, she starts squirming and refused to come near me because of the mouse. You can't even see it! So I walk back into the living room, where there's more room for her to walk way around me. She unlocks the door. We walk downstairs and outside. I have her open one of the garbage cans in front of our building. I lift the bowl up a little bit, and the mouse moves! OK, so it is still alive. That's when I have a brain storm and walk to the end of the block and dump it in a garbage can there. This way, if it gets back inside, it will end up in someone else's apartment. I end up throwing out the whole thing. The plate, the bowl and a spoon that happened to get trapped under the bowl with the mouse. I guess I could have just washed them really, really well, but that just felt too gross. And it's cheap, hand-me down stuff from the thrift store and my great aunt, so they won't really be missed. And that, my friends, is why I'm a bad ass. DG was still freaking out as we walked down the street. And I was laughing. I mean, really, who actually catches a mouse with a bowl?