Finger Condoms

My essay for the website Femsplain came out today! You can read it here! Unfortunately for you, loyalest of readers, it's a bit of a rehashing of this story about reaching out to the host of a podcast but I drew a deeper, broader conclusion this time around. Check it out!

The sun sets so early these days it really throws me off. It's only 6:15 right now but it's pitch black out and I have plans tonight and I feel like I'm already late for them it's been dark so long. (I am not late.)

I have sad, grave news. I saw the mouse above the dish washer this afternoon. I saw movement out of the corner of my eye while I was talking to Megan and said "OH MY GOD--that's the mouse!" Its movements were slow and sluggish, however, and something was definitely wrong. Megan went near it and it didn't even so much as twitch. It moved its head from side to side every now and then, and occasionally looked up or took a couple steps. But it was not the feisty mouse who was known for running around and driving me crazy. Yes, it seemed the mouse had come out to slowly die in front of us. Megan was upset. "We did this," she said, pouting heavily. Indeed we did.

UPDATE: The mouse is missing. It has moved again. Uh oh.

Megan also brought home a little sex ed kit from a violence against women event thing she went to and along with regular condoms it came with tiny finger condoms?? I have guesses what they're for but... (please see the header image.)

I'm writing the rest of this entry at 1am after attending two separate birthday gatherings this evening. However, I must update you on the saga of Timothy Nibbles also known as the mouse in our house.

Tonight, the mouse came out and died at my feet. This was a specific fear I expressed earlier.

Hannah had some friends over at our apartment before dinner this evening. We were sitting around the living room drinking. I was sitting on a chair by the coffee table, one leg propped up. Suddenly Hannah's sister, Talia, grabbed me by the arm and said, "Don't move, there's a dead mouse by your foot." Chaos followed.

People started standing on their chairs but Renee leaned over the coffee table from the couch and declared the mouse still alive by poking it with a tortilla chip. (This was a room of 8 girls mind you. Wails of grossness, mournful faces, and exclamations of "don't touch it!" were common throughout the room.)

It was still alive but obviously--by its lethargic state and general indifference at being in the presence of eight humans--in very, very bad shape. He was so stationary Renee was able to get him in a tupperware container using a piece of paper. Everyone felt sad and guilty since he was so clearly dying a slow painful death from the poison we planted. One of Hannah's friends said "If I was a real woman, I would smash that mouse's head and give it a quick death. But I'm not a real woman."

We took Timothy Nibbles out to the trash area in his tupperware palanquin for what I imagine is the final time. Rest in peace Timothy Nibbles, I'm sorry it turned out this way. We wanted your death to be quick and painless. Good night, sweet prince. May hosts of angels sing you to sleep.