So, would you have a mouse for a pet? Is it too icky? (By the way, I'm considering changing Tara's pet to an exotic cat) Are you afraid of mice? And are they more trouble than men?
That's what I'm getting at. Mice mess (uh hem) where you don't want them to. They get into the food you don't want them in and cause more work. But what else do they do? They scamper, but then who wouldn't when a monster-ish human form towers over you? I'd run for my life, too!
Not to be too indelicate (have you ever cleaned a toilet bowl?), but yeah, same difference. Then, ever try to hide the cookies? (homemade bread, pie, cake, etc. etc.) You'd think they were going through a worse persecution than some foreign third world country. They're much worse than children when they get sick. (I carry the phone around afraid any minute I'll have to call emergency.) And just let them prepare some document, manuscript, article, etc. You must, must, must listen to this.
So why is it when I have a tiny bit of my novel I need proofread, "I'm too busy right now" is what I hear? Fair turnabout is what I thought it was all about.
They insist on heading to the most boring sections in Wal-Mart. They chat endlessly about sports and cars and jobs, but let us mention a baby! Oh, my, their eyes turn glassy and droop with a sudden syndrome called sleepiness.
Tell me this: is that fair?
But, hey, I gotta remember, I get warm cuddlings from one certain handsome man (hubby!), and I can't complain about him not taking me places.
He helps me in the house, strives to give me what I need--and want (most of the time--don't want to get too generous here!) He's good at keeping the fireplace stoked because he knows I love it. He puts up with my pets, when he'd just as soon not have any. He listens-- sometimes, or, at least, pretends to--to my eternal chatting about my writing. He buys me flowers. And I think he loves me.
Hmmm . . . I think I'll keep him around for awhile yet.