It was not alone.

A couple days ago I put in four loads of laundry. Yes, I know that is a lot, but I was backed up and my wonderful sister-in-law Jenny gave me a ton of maternity clothes (thanks again Jenny!). I finished the laundry and brought it all upstairs and put it away. That in itself was a feat, but that is not why I am writing this.

Yesterday I went down to wash some quilts and when I looked next to the washing machine there was a dead mouse right next to it. I did a little yelp and promptly went back upstairs (ignoring the washing I was planning on doing). Luckily, my big burly man of a husband took control of the situation. Henry wanted to go down so he got to take a peak of the dead mouse. Surprisingly, he did fine with it. He wasn't grossed out at all. I guess this is a good thing.

Ok, are you ready for the bad part?

Aaron said that the mouse looked like it had been stepped on.

Ugh!

Four loads of laundry, up and down, up and down. You think I would have heard a crack or a squeal, right? I mean, it had to be me. I even know what shoes I was wearing (good think I always wear shoes into the basement).

Ugh.

And that's not all. Henry told me they found another one, just laying there dead in another place. What? Are we breeding mice? So, for now, I'm quarantining myself out of the basement while we get our little problems fixed (um, I haven't necessarily told Aaron about this yet).

4 years, no mice and now this.

Ugh.