Unincorporated land near Sherwood, Oregon. A bathroom with blue and sea-green square tiles. 2 am.
JORDAN: (rubs eyes, squints, applies toothpaste to an orange toothbrush and begins to brush teeth... soon notices something is amiss) What is that?
(leans over sink and examines counter-top, where dozens of dark-brown fennel-seed shaped objects are splattered across the aquamarine surface)
Is that animal, vegetable, or mineral? It's not dust...it's not food...it's not a man-made appliance. Is that... poop?
(It is. She leans in closer to ascertain its freshness and quality)
Gross! Mouse poop!
(Turning around, she notices small colonies of mouse poop are nestled in her shower, under her toilet, and in her closet. She walks out into her room and sees more colonies on her bookshelves and under the window.)
I'm outta here. Who knows where those mice could be now. Vermin have obviously claimed my room as their lair and playground.
All right, fun as that was (both discovering clusters of mouse poop in fun and surprising locations (!!) and writing in a theatrical style), it's time to move on to greener pastures. Today, upon returning to the mouse lair, I found rodent outposts in my shoes in my closet, underneath my once beloved stuffed animals, and next to my now and always beloved books.
Luckily the poop was a remnant of an extinct population (thanks to my mom's beatifully executed ruthless coup several weeks ago...she's a true master of rodent military stratagem, and as such, I can't blame her for not finding and cleaning up the enemy camp). Unfortunately, I was forced to sacrifice the biological evidence of the once flourishing mouse-city.
Thus I spent my first morning at home.
Okay, so my mom did most of the cleaning.
I love being home.