Come home at ten and boil water. You hear the mice scurrying in your the oven so just to spite them you turn it onto 450 while you're waiting for the water to boil. Scurrying continues. Awful smell of burnt hair. You wonder if you're actually killing them or just scaring them away and remember that Lauren said that if you burn them they release some kind of toxin. You go get some Tibetan incense and run to the kitchen to light it to cover the smell, and, let's face it, because you feel like a Buddhist these days. You accidentally knock the porcelain incense holder off the kitchen counter, where it shatters. You shrug. The sounds of the mice in the oven continue. You immediately step on the shattered porcelain shards and cut both of you feet, very painfully. You clean them and continue cooking. The sounds of the mice are getting scarce. You go and change a lightbulb and notice, once it's changed, that you've bled everywhere, from your feet. You have to scrub your own blood off the floor and even though there's no sound but the hissing of gas you know the mice will come back.

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