It’s currently 5am.
I have been awake since 3am because while I can, it seems, currently sleep through Carole getting up at ungodly hours – well 6am-ish – to go runs my brain is tuned to wake me up at the sounds of Peppa engaging in shenanigans in the house.
At 3am, then, I was awoken by shenanigans. There was a lot of scrabbling, leaping, scuffling and occassional squeaking. I was alert immediately, listening long enough to know it wasn’t a dream or an imagined sound upon waking (a “hypnopumpkin” for any Death By Monsters fans). It was not a product of sleep. It was Peppa.
I got up. Bed shorts. Nude torso. Bravely striding downstairs, my path lit by only an iPhone torch. The squeaking worried me. That indicated a live mouse. A trickier concept to deal with, at 3am, than a dead one.
Turns out, though, it was a moth and the squeaking came from Peppa’s cactus cat toy which she generally ignores entirely but which squeaks if you so much as subject it to a gentle breeze. The moth battle had raged in its vicinity, setting it off, making me fear the worst.
I dealt with the moth. I came back to bed. I lay, trying to fall back to sleep.
Some thirty to forty minutes later I hear more scrabbling. I am, at this point, not asleep. I am listening, trying to wotk out what’s going on. I figure I may as well get up, again, and look because if it’s a mouse this time I’d be getting up at 6 anyway when Caz screams the house down.
It was a mouse. Or an ex-mouse.
So I picked it up by nature’s handle – the tail – and headed to the back door. Mice go into the bin so that they are removed from temptation. And because Carole says I’m not allowed to throw them onto next door’s trampoline.
As you would expect from it being 3.45am.
I unlock the door quietly. I don’t want to disturb anyone. I just want to get this done, and head back to bed. I open the door. I step out.
Next door (the nice one who mows her lawn for hours) is outside having a fag.
It’s 3.45am for frick’s sake. Why is she..? I know why I am, it’s currently swinging from my hand.
Oh I’m still naked from the waist up, by the way, because who expects to bump into anyone outside at 3.45 in the fricking morning?
No-one. Unless it’s a burglar.
I didn’t know what to do. I just said “morning!” and took the mouse to the bin, And now when she wakes up, I’ll have to tell Carole about it incase next door asks what I was doing up at that time. Like I’m the fricking weird one for being outside then…
Still mich better than a 6am scream.
Oh, and yeah, I’m wide awake now. Which is great.