Mouses call for extraordinary measures around the houses. Or in my rented room, at any rate. It's amazing how the scampering of little paws (do mouses have paws?) can motivate you to discard the detritus of your recent (and not so recent) existence.

And to do laundry too. (If without soap.)

Thank goodness I had the intermittent strains of The Zombies to bring brightness to the dank, dusty day.

I think I even saw a mouse dancing.

But I wonder where the entry point is. I need to plug it up with Brillo.

Otherwise, there's probably gonna be a gluin' in this town.

And that won't be pretty. (Would be sad to lose not just a mouse but a horse.)