Bodies, bodies, everywhere

And not a man in sight.  I generally pride myself on being able to handle just about anything life throws my way, and not needing a man to take care of anything for me, but this was one (two) of those times I would have gladly handed over the reigns and let a man take care of it all!

Eww, gross and yuck!  Last night, as I was following a car up a state road (thankfully from a little distance), I saw the car hit their breaks, then something tan go flying.  They'd hit a deer.  Living in the country, this isn't uncommon, but what the driver did next was.  She pulled over so she was partway off the road, but still had close to half her car in the lane.  She just sat there, with her breaks still on and put it in reverse.  Then she sat there.  Since the shoulder is more than wide enough for a car, I was a little worried that she had been injured.  I stayed back for a minute to see what she would do, but she didn't back up, didn't pull over the rest of the way, didn't get out to check the damage.  I slowly pulled up next to her and asked if she was okay.  She stared at me for the longest time before realizing she needed to put her window down to hear me.  Once she did, I asked again and I could tell she was really rattled.  I backed up to put my car behind hers so I could get all the way off the road and put my blinkers on.  It was a small, older lady, so I felt fairly comfortable, but I still grabbed my cell phone, just in case.  She was completely clueless as to how to proceed, so I instructed her to call her husband, while I called the police for an accident report.  She kept saying how shaken up she was, how she didn't know what to do next and how scared she was to be there on the side of the road, so I offered to stay with her until either her husband or the police showed up.  I don't know how many times she went over and checked on the deer, even though it was clear that it had been killed on impact.  It's not that I've never seen a dead animal before, but I really didn't want to hang out with one.  Gross.

This morning, about half an hour before I would have usually gotten up, Wolfey started going a bit nutso.  It wasn't his usual "I've got to pee" whine, or his "I want attention" whimper and I was kind of lost as to what was going on.  If it had been Lolly, I would have chalked it up to the fact that she's a bit of a nut job, snuggled her into submission and gone back to sleep, but usually when Wolfey acts out, there's a reason.  I got up and opened the bedroom door and he bolted for the back door.  I assumed he must have had to pee and I just wasn't reading his signs right and went around to check the mouse traps - oh, yeah, did I mention I found mouse droppings the other day?  I've had a mouse in the basement before, but never in the upstairs and I was pretty grossed out by that and immediately went out and bought, and subsequently set, several mouse traps.  Well, I found the source of Wolfey's angst - there was a mouse on the trap in the closet.  Not just any mouse, though...a LIVE mouse!  I think I'd had this idea that the mouse would get caught as soon as I left for work one day and would be dead by the time I got home and had to deal with it, but no, this one was wriggling and squeaking and fighting for its life.  So after the traumatizing events of last night, then I had to kill this poor mouse this morning.  I actually went so far as to call my dad and ask him to drive out to the house to take care of it!  Of course, he wouldn't, and told me to just put a piece of cardboard over it and step on it.  Ick!  I couldn't do that, but I did use an old magazine (sorry, Glamor!  Not very glamorous today!) to pick it up, so that it was between several layers, took it out to the garage and dropped a 2x4 on it.  Twice.  I'm happy to say little mouse is now in mousey heaven, but it was still a pretty rough way to start the day!

So that brings my dead body count to two in the past 24 hours.  I think we can stop there.  Please!