Reeses

Before I begin with the post, I’d like to tell my readers of a format change for next week. My usual attempts at a Monday, Wednesday, and Friday blog will not exist next week. However, I will be enjoying geekdom in Boston, as I attend Pax East as I have since it started 3 years ago. What does this mean to you, my readers? This means my 3 days will occur Friday-Sunday, (the 6-8). Even cooler than that, if you happen to be fans of everything geek as I am, I will be covering my weekend with videos, blogs, and live tweets from the event. I may even consider running live streams for certain events, but I’ll revisit this before my leaving. I hope that you enjoy it, because I know I’ll enjoy sharing it with you.

Now, the post. The embarrassingly and true story of Reeses.

Shortly after graduating college, I had a bit of a battle of just not feeling right. I didn’t have a place, as I had decided I’d rather do anything but teach and I had a degree almost as useless as one in philosophy or liberal arts. I felt alone, out of place, and I didn’t feel good about myself or anything else. My boyfriend (now husband) had ignored me as I had a rule that no food was allowed in my room. I hate crumbs in the bed, and it ruined my disorganized “feng-shui”. He didn’t listen of course, they never do, and left the bag of Reese’s Cups opened and prime for mouse fodder. And mouse fodder it was.

At first, I was scared of the mouse. The OCD me only thought of the germs and bacteria this mouse and its feces probably carried, and I wanted nothing to do with it. Then, I named him Reeses, and refused to have him killed. I had grown attached to that diseased and disgusting little rodent, and he was my only friend. I talked to this mouse, this ugly little thing as if he were a person. I didn’t care he was a diseased little rodent, and I would probably scream if I saw it and refused to touch it if it came near me. But he was my closest and dearest friend… ok, I can’t be sure it was actually a he, but I’ll just go with it. I look back in shame though, I had actually gone so low in my sadness I had befriended and personified a house rodent. Either way, he was almost as comforting as the crazy little squirrel who threw acorns at my window to prevent me from sleeping the sad away.

Reeses’ story didn’t end well, he ended up in a mousetrap baited with a Reese’s Cup. I learned my lesson too, I don’t think I ever want to feel that alone that I befriend a diseased and ugly rodent. That’s why I’m glad I have dogs, Zoey might eat poop and Tank might have perpetual “derp face”, but at least they aren’t house mice. Somehow it’s more acceptable to become friends with poop eating dogs than peanut butter cup eating mice, but at least I can cuddle with one of my cat sized mooshy dogs when I feel like I’m about to make friends with a rodent. And remember readers…. People can be rodents to.

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