A mouse ate my drugs (and other excuses for not writing)
Some mice want cookies. Other mice want drugs. Guess which type of mouse decided to move into my bathroom recently? Yup, a drug muncher.
I'm not sure when this little fiend moved in, but it went on a massive binge in my medicine drawer in which it ate:
- A whole bottle of Zyrtec pills
- 10 Benadryl capsules
- 2 tiny bottles of waxing oil
- 5 suppositories
- 20ish zinc lozenges
The lozenges at least made some sense because they have sugar in them. I really can't explain the rest of it. That critter's liver must have been working like a bilge pump on the Titanic because I truly don't know how that creature was able to walk after eating all those drugs. If I went on a bender like that, I'd be comatose. The Benadryl alone would have turned me into a zombie (and not the cool kind either but like the drooly, draggy-foot kind).
Yet this drug-addled mouse continued exploring my bathroom and pooping all over my stuff with impunity. It was perfectly willing to strut out into the room even when I was there with all the lights on giving it the stink eye. That was very unmouselike behavior, and I suspect the drug cocktail wiped away all its inhibitions like jungle juice at a frat party.
The little turd machine was still too fast for me to catch it with this tupperware trap I improvised. You think from all the games of Mouse Trap I played as a kid that a device like that would have worked. All I really needed to do though was wait until midnight for that bold-as-fuck rodent to stumble up onto my bathroom counter. Then I snapped a cardboard box down over it and whisked it outside.
There is now a very hungover mouse living over by the creek near our local high school. I sincerely hope it finds more nutritious things than pills and suppositories to consume out there in the woods.
Anyway, that's just one of the unexpected reasons I haven't been writing as much as I would like to lately. The other main reason I alluded to in a previous post. There was a very strong possbility I would have to find a new dayjob and considering how ill I had been along with a terrifying apartment fire last year and my elderly cat passing away, having the job potentially implode too was a lot. Also, job searches fuel my depression demons like nothing else. Even the possbility of searching for a new job so soon after getting this one was stressing me out to the point where I could barely get out of bed. I was truly not functional at all, and the situation was extra hard to navigate because my usual therapist was on a long, well-deserved trip to Europe.
Fortunately, I didn't have to leave. Since I was in "nothing to lose" mode, I asked for some significant changes to be made. Because I live and work in America, the home of the free, the brave, and cutthroat capitalism, I was fully expecting to be fired when I made those requests. I'm used to being disposable, so I was pretty stunned when my employer actually agreed to make the changes I asked for. Once that happened, the depression lifted and work has been a lot less stressful ever since.
I'm writing every day again now. Not quite churning out as many words as I would like to, but at least I got the whole "butt in chair, hands on keyboard" thing going. I'm also very fortunate to be heading on a writing retreat soon, and I expect to generate quite a few words while enjoying some gorgeous scenery.
I think the main thing I learned is that being clear about my needs and making bold asks for change when I'm unhappy can pay off. Also, it's important to give people a chance to change. When you're on the brink of moving on anyway, you uaually have nothing to lose by giving people an opportunity to meet your needs.
More importantly, I need to adopt a new cat. Or at least foster one so that no more drug-munching mice try to move in.