There is no way to spiritualize what’s on my mind as I sit down to write for 5 quick minutes. There just isn’t. I won’t even try.

A mouse ran up my arm today. A mouse!

I hate, detest, fear, obssess over mice. I do. And when one runs up my arm, I can’t get it off my mind. So that’s what you’ll get at Five Minute Friday.

I was doing a typical morning chore, dipping into the tub that holds cat food, scooping up this morning’s portion. So far, so good. Still in my bathrobe, I stepped onto the back patio and bent to pour the food into the cat bowls when something soft and fast scurried up my arm, into my robe sleeve.

It’s a good thing we live in the country, at least a mile from other neighbors because my blood-curdling scream echoed off the hillside.

Ripping off the the bathrobe and tossing it to the ground, I saw an equally terrifed gray mouse run for the hills, cats in fast pursuit.

Hyperventilation does not begin to describe the state of my health at that moment. Standing there in the frigid air in my shortie nightgown, purple bathrobe crumpled at my bare feet, I realized how ridiculous this was.


He was soft, light as a feather, kinda cute. Why was I, an adult woman of substantial height and weight (relatively speaking) freaking out over a mouse?

There. I’ve got it out of my system.

And tomorrow, my husband can feed the cats.