Something Rotten in Denmark

I know the picture is funny - me: greasy, in undies, freshly awake, with cheap drug store flashlight, crazy hair, looking toothless (and from a weird angle so it looks like I am going to the 7 1/2 floor in the movie Being John Malkovich) but the problem isn't. Funny, that is.

You can't imagine my luck with mice. Seriously. And I have a cat! What's the deal yo? It's not that I have them it's that I have them infrequently but can't just have a normal experience with them. UGH. Sigh. Okay, so...forgetting the old mouse tales for now and focusing on the current troubles...Norma (the cat) caught a baby mouse on Friday night. It was bed time, I was relaxed and I saw her playing with her toy - you know, the one that wasn't a toy. The poor little guy was about the size of a thumb and so cute. Of course, being a cat, she had to play with it and not mercifully kill it. He escaped - with my help - to the back of the bookcase (not my idea). The one nailed to the wall. With hollow space underneath but a panel on the front of the empty space. The space that little mousey could reach from the back but that I can't get to from the front...yeah, that. I could go on but will spare you details and get to the point. That little thumb sized idiot is dead under there. And guess what. He reeks. Not a little and increasing by the minute. The book shelf is built in (firmly attached to the brick wall behind it). I have been ripping, hammering, drilling, vacuuming and scooping (coat hanger) this morning for several hours now - to no avail. I am utterly repulsed. And totally out of ideas.

Needless to say, I am focused elsewhere today. Will resume weight obsession when I can inhale without gagging in my own home.