A Problem

The body laid on the floor. I had to walk around it to get anywhere.

“Are you going to do something with that?”

George looked at me, dropped his fork. “Do we have to?”

I kicked the dead thing. “It’s in the way. I think you should. You’re the one who left it there.”

“Nah, leave it. It’s not hurting anything. It’s dead now.” George resumed his breakfast.

I sighed, long and loud. “Oh for heaven’s sake. Just get up and do something with that dead thing.”

George continued eating, ignoring me.

“I’ll have to get out the air freshener, the Lysol, the mop and bucket, wash all the rugs, wash all the curtains, wash all the towels. And when that is done, I’ll have to pick up the dead thing, put it in the trash, and scrub the entire house. After that, we’ll have to move into a motel for a week because the dead thing will have laid around so long the house stinks to high heaven.”

At the mention of a motel, George perked up.

“Fine, Nancy. Fine. I’ll pick it up and get rid of it. Don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

He leaned down and grabbed the mouse by the tail, then put the mouse, trap and all in a plastic bag. After that he stomped out to the trash and back.

“There you go. No more problem. I just saved us $150 a night. Can I finish my breakfast now?”

“Not yet.” I held out some antibacterial wipes. He grabbed a few, then gave me a kiss.

“My hero…” I said as I kissed him back.


W/C 273