Our washing machine hasn't been draining properly for a few weeks. I go down to the basement to switch a load and find my clothes sopping wet in the bottom of the washer, when they should be damp but not dripping pasted against the sides of the drum. So I set the washer to the spin cycle and let them spin out a second or even third time. It's time consuming, and I'm sure wasteful of energy, and definitely exhausting. It certainly doesn't make me want to tackle the ever-growing laundry pile after work!
But I have to do the laundry. Gavin goes through bibs like they're going outta style, and quite often his jammies too. So the other night, I flipped on the basement light to activate spin-cycle #3. But I startled a squatter on my way down: I glimpsed a flash of dark fur running down the wall. Horrifying. The silver lining was that I knew exactly where to place the little box of poison.
So let's flash forward to yesterday. Nate and I go down to the basement to try to "fix" the washing machine, screw driver and drain snake in hand. I get to the bottom step and see it: the body. Lying on my basement floor. So of course I let out a blood curdling scream. MOUSEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!! Even Nate let out a shout when he saw it, "Oh my god! There IS a mouse!" (as if my scream was a lie. but anyway) He takes care of the mouse, I try to put my heart back in my chest, and we move back to the washing machine, which we were not able to fix.
Meanwhile, Laura and Gavin are playing upstairs. Or so I think. I mean, Gavin's not going anywhere. He's in his saucer and safe/unable to escape. Laura on the other hand... Appears at the top of the basement steps:
I pooped on the potty!! I got a little poop on my finger when I wiped, but I washed my hands!
Nate and I were stunned. Happily stunned. Laura stopped playing, took herself all the way upstairs, pooped, wiped, flushed and washed her hands. Without any help, prompting, begging or pleading. So when she asked for a Hershey Kiss AND a marshamallow as reward? We happily obliged. And when I had to hand wash her little undies because she didn't really wipe very well, I couldn't have been prouder to do so.
In the meantime, I need to remember how to ask for Confession at Church, because the guilt of my murder is weighing heavily on my soul. How can I hate a thing so much, and still feel so awful for killing it?