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Phantom mice. It's got to be phantom mice.
I think I saw a mice run down the side of my box spring and then back up towards the head of my bed. I say "think" because it only briefly peaked its head out from the shelter of my desk and there's a chance I might have imagined it. I don't know. Our neighbor had a mice problem for a few years and I know we had a rather bad one last summer, but they've always managed to keep to the first floor of the house. The only person who ever notices them is me, and that's usually after I'm seriously on edge or stressed the hell out like I am now. Either being tired and stressed and worried I'm going to royally fail out of school hypes up my visuals to the utmost, or it plays mean tricks with my mind. The last time I remember seeing a mouse in my room was one time in HS during the middle of an all-nighter, when I swore I saw one run out of my door. I screamed like the dickens and had my dad investigate with no result. This afternoon I thought I saw one run under the ironing board (in broad daylight, mind you) and then this whole mouse incident a couple of hours ago. Have I mentioned I'm tired and frickin' sick of doing practice NCLEX questions? Fuckin' phantom mice and stupid-ass finals. Both of 'em need to go on to hell.
I'm in the middle of the "should I stay up and work some more or go to sleep wake up early and work then" debate. Goddamn, I am so bitter right now. No real target either...I'm glad I've decided to let off the self-flagellation for a little while.
I just need a hug really badly. And maybe a screw. A hug and a screw. A hew? Yes, a hew.
I'm going to step away from the journal before someone sends Ninja LemursTM on me.
I think I saw a mice run down the side of my box spring and then back up towards the head of my bed. I say "think" because it only briefly peaked its head out from the shelter of my desk and there's a chance I might have imagined it. I don't know. Our neighbor had a mice problem for a few years and I know we had a rather bad one last summer, but they've always managed to keep to the first floor of the house. The only person who ever notices them is me, and that's usually after I'm seriously on edge or stressed the hell out like I am now. Either being tired and stressed and worried I'm going to royally fail out of school hypes up my visuals to the utmost, or it plays mean tricks with my mind. The last time I remember seeing a mouse in my room was one time in HS during the middle of an all-nighter, when I swore I saw one run out of my door. I screamed like the dickens and had my dad investigate with no result. This afternoon I thought I saw one run under the ironing board (in broad daylight, mind you) and then this whole mouse incident a couple of hours ago. Have I mentioned I'm tired and frickin' sick of doing practice NCLEX questions? Fuckin' phantom mice and stupid-ass finals. Both of 'em need to go on to hell.
I'm in the middle of the "should I stay up and work some more or go to sleep wake up early and work then" debate. Goddamn, I am so bitter right now. No real target either...I'm glad I've decided to let off the self-flagellation for a little while.
I just need a hug really badly. And maybe a screw. A hug and a screw. A hew? Yes, a hew.
I'm going to step away from the journal before someone sends Ninja LemursTM on me.
