On Saturday I brought Joey down to see how stinkin' far it is from my office to the parking lot. (It's 3/4 of a mile, for those of you who care to feel sorry for me.) I also wanted to show him the floor in one of the buildings down here. They've been redoing it for months and it's the oddest process. I thought he'd think it was cool. He probably did.

On Friday, though, I saw a mouse. (It was on the 3/4 mile walk from the car to the desk.) Tiffany and I were walking up the steps outside the telemarketing parking garage (we don't even get to park in the parking garage yet--just the overflow lot) and there, lying on one of the steps, was a very cute little mouse.

He was very, very dead.

I don't really know how he got there because he was about 9-10 feet off the ground and he was in the middle of the staircase; maybe he fell from one of the garage levels, maybe he just had a little heart attack, maybe a cat dropped him.

I almost touched him because he was SO cute. Then I thought, "OK, Jenna, that's nasty, not to mention that you're old enough to know better than to go touching dead animals in public. You can't do an autopsy on this one." (I did that once when I was a kid. I used a couple of sticks. It was really...gross.) Anyway, I decided to scoot poor mousey off the steps lest some unwitting soul crunched him on their way down the stairs.

Now THAT would be gross. (But it would be kind of funny if it was some prissy, stilletoed woman...)

So I slid him, with my foot, over to the edge of the stairs. Thunk. He was extremely hard, musta been dead for awhile. He was cute, though.