"Of Mice and Men"

(another day in the life of a jobless)

Its not white and furry. And its most definitely not cute.
Its brown and scuttling. And I most definitely do not like it.
I do not like mice.
I do not like this mouse.

It doesn't like me either for that matter.
No peaceful co-existence this.

The electricity went off for a bit in the morning. A cup of tea, I thought.
Sugar, milk, water, tea....I am all ready. And then it danced away merrily on the shelf on top of my head. I shrieked to an empty house.
The morning cup of tea..lost and given up.
Darn.
I think of the animal lady in some now-forgotten childhood story. Pigeons on her arms, mice on her shoulders, rabbits clinging to her legs and a whole army of other cute animals around her. Now, if I catch this mouse by its tail and swing it to and fro, will it curl itself up into an elongated ball and try to regain control of its tail?
It peeked out of a black shoe a while back. That shoe was M's concession to being a part of the corporate world for a bit. Now it gathers dust. Not that I care, but did the mouse peek into the corporate mind and dust trapped in that shoe? In that world (of high heels, perfumed clouds and poker straight hair..and yes I do generalize) they would have shrieked with much more style and elegance.
Darn this life.
I clapped to shoo it away. It jumped and scuttled back into temporary invisibility.

An hour goes by. Nothing.
No furtive dash across the room.
No squeak.
Funny....
Is it alright?
Twiddle thumbs a little bit.
Roll my eyes around.
Talk to M...rather type away furiously through the chat window and grab all the space before he returns from tangerine oranges of an imagined Italian summer to a bright Smirnoff-ian green apple vodka..
Walk up to the mirror...face looks alright. No signs of...

Ha! and its back.

I look at the mouse and it looks right back at me.
No. No game of who-stares-without-blinking...this is pure power play. Needless to say who wins and who comes quietly back to sit on the bed and do a little more of "twiddle your thumbs".
I am morose.
I can hear a snigger from that dark corner by the washing machine.
Darn this life.

And the "men" bit of all this?
The "mice" bit of this appears to make the everyday life of the "men" bit seem (and I quote) "mundane, in a nice sort of way".
Fancy that.
Without this mouse perhaps I would be inconsequential.Nothing.
Darn this life.

Between mice which give meaning and men who find the meaning, I, apparently, am turning into a comic book character.