When I took down my Christmas decorations, I transferred the Hershey kisses from the clear Christmas tree container to two small Lenox candy dishes. Years ago, I decided to use my good stuff and not save it for special occasions. I left one bowl on the kitchen counter and placed the other on a shelf in the kitchen cabinet. Don’t need to eat two bowls of kisses.
Little did I know that a dish of candy would cause me to question my mental health.
Let me explain. Oh, I would appreciate if you would please cut me a little slack this was before coffee, ten months into a pandemic, and it was the morning after the US Capitol had been stormed by “Americans.”
On January 7 as I made my morning coffee, I noticed the candy bowl was empty. How? At which point my thoughts spiraled towards some ridiculous conclusions.
I must be sleep walking and eating them. That would explain my weight gain.
No, wait. I remember now. I threw them out so I wouldn’t be tempted to eat them. Yeah, that’s it.
Checked trash can. Nothing.
Someone broke in. That’s impossible.
But checked doors anyway. All secure.
I’m going crazy.
Not, good.
Think, think.
Plan, need a plan.
I went to the corner cabinet, found the other bowl of kisses, placed it is same spot and took a photo. Photo documentation will help my sanity. Good idea.
Then I changed my mind.
Put two kisses in bowl, took photo, and threw out the rest.
Alrighty I have a plan.
Went about my day.
Went to bed.
Got up. Cautiously went downstairs.
The kisses were gone.
And there was a single mouse poop in the candy dish.
Thank God. I have a mouse in the house.
Never thought I would think that.
Called Terminix. Read up on the internet and found out that mice do like chocolate. Mouse has since moved on to mousy heaven.
Yesterday I realized my former mouse visitor had stored or dropped two of his kisses in the basement sink. Took a photo. Still feel the need for documentation. (don’t judge my basement sink)
Not really sure why I shared this story except maybe sometimes we need to tell our stories so others can laugh, or cry, or say “me, too.”
“We owe it to each other to tell stories.” Neil Gaiman
Miss Ann Says 