Fight or Flight Syndrome - I Chose Flight

This morning as I got the boys up for school, I noticed Champ was acting more animated than normal for 6 a.m.  He is not a morning puppy but was running around my bedroom excitedly.  I immediately felt horror, since he acted this same way at Christmas last year when he cornered a mouse in the formal living room (said mouse having been brought in with the Christmas decorations from the garage).  Sure enough, as I sat outside my bedroom door in the upstairs hall, watching the action in my bedroom, and hoping for the best but fearing the worst, I saw the M-O-U-S-E run from under my sleigh bed, and it was running right toward where I sat.  Of course, in typical girl fashion, I screamed and leapt upon the cedar chest where I had been sitting.  Once the mouse was under the cedar chest, which I had thought was a safe haven, I jumped off and ran back into my bedroom and leapt effortlessly (fear will do that to you) upon the bench at the foot of my bed, screaming all the while.  I didn't realize I could jump so fast and easily until this moment.  The three men in the house were not amused but did come quickly to my aid.  I'm not afraid of some normal pests but am not fond of mice.  I can tolerate them in the garage occassionally but NEVER in the house, especially in my bedroom. 

You see, I've always had a fear of a MOUSE IN THE HOUSE.  Sharyn's Grandma Kennington told a story of sleeping one night and awakening when a mouse ran across her face and I've always been horrified at the thought.  Bedrooms should be a sacred refuge from the worries (and pests) of the world.  But living with hills, trees and the Cleveland National Forest practically in our front yard brings other pests, namely mice.  So Chris bought mouse hotels or something like that so the puppy couldn't get hurt and put them under the bed and cedar chest but no luck yet.  (Can you believe I have glorified mousetraps under my bed?  UGGGGHHHHH).  As you can imagine, I am not looking forward to going to bed tonight as mice are nocturnal and I'm not.  Luckily, my ever vigilant puppy will be standing watch and I awake anytime I hear him moving since his licenses and dog tags jingle jangle.  Oh, and here's the last weird part:  As I stood atop the bench rigid with fear (yes, it's true) well after Chris took the boys to school, I kept composing this blog in my head.  Now that is scary.