I am not cheese!*
*I preface this by saying it was not my smartest moment.
That having been said, I totally had a flashback the other day as I was walking into work. I was about to come in the front door when I saw a baby mouse run by. Now you're asking yourself what does that have to do with anything. . .
So it was a nice day around August 20th and I was minding my own business. I was out near the elevator lobby on the 5th floor when someone I work with caught my attention and said "There's a mouse over here". And thus it began. I walk over and see that the little critter is paralyzed with fright. I was feeling especially humanitarian so I decided I would pick the little guy up and take him outside. I imagined myself some kind of expert in rodents because we used to have 6 ferrets when I was a teenager. I went to grab Mr. Mouse right behind the head, thinking he would be unable to bite me. Wrong, wrong, wrong and again I emphatically say WRONG! The ungrateful little sucker bit me right on my finger. That having been done, I went for a more clinical approach, i.e. found a trash can, grabbed him by the tail and flung him in.
Right about the time I was "escorting" Stuart Little off the property someone made the observation "hey I think he ate some of that rat poison". Now I'm thinking "great!" I'm imagining his little rodent teeth were coated in poison which is now coarsing through my veins. I'm beginning to feel hot and clammy and my pulse is starting to race. I decide maybe I should see my Primary Care Doctor (PCP). I go back inside and tell my supervisor about my foolishness and he tries not to laugh at me and says in all his "30 years" here he has never heard of anything like this. So I call my PCP and they say I have to file a Workman's Comp claim since I got "injured" at work. I felt so stupid.
The saga continues. I have to call Workman's Comp and file a claim. The Claim's Rep laughs at me. Great. I laugh too because it's funny in a cosmically retarded kind of way because only I would really do something like this. I then have to fill out a report for my agency and the building I work in because it's a leased building. It comes down to "described the offender" and I write "mouse". What else am I supposed to write? I imagine even more people getting a kick out of that. I waste about a tank of gas driving from my work to my PCP (20 minute drive) then back to work to only be told I will have to take an antibiotic but that otherwise I'm fine. The mouse is not considered rabid since I "provoked" him.
The moral of the story is - if you see a mouse, keep walking.
That having been said, I totally had a flashback the other day as I was walking into work. I was about to come in the front door when I saw a baby mouse run by. Now you're asking yourself what does that have to do with anything. . .
So it was a nice day around August 20th and I was minding my own business. I was out near the elevator lobby on the 5th floor when someone I work with caught my attention and said "There's a mouse over here". And thus it began. I walk over and see that the little critter is paralyzed with fright. I was feeling especially humanitarian so I decided I would pick the little guy up and take him outside. I imagined myself some kind of expert in rodents because we used to have 6 ferrets when I was a teenager. I went to grab Mr. Mouse right behind the head, thinking he would be unable to bite me. Wrong, wrong, wrong and again I emphatically say WRONG! The ungrateful little sucker bit me right on my finger. That having been done, I went for a more clinical approach, i.e. found a trash can, grabbed him by the tail and flung him in.
Right about the time I was "escorting" Stuart Little off the property someone made the observation "hey I think he ate some of that rat poison". Now I'm thinking "great!" I'm imagining his little rodent teeth were coated in poison which is now coarsing through my veins. I'm beginning to feel hot and clammy and my pulse is starting to race. I decide maybe I should see my Primary Care Doctor (PCP). I go back inside and tell my supervisor about my foolishness and he tries not to laugh at me and says in all his "30 years" here he has never heard of anything like this. So I call my PCP and they say I have to file a Workman's Comp claim since I got "injured" at work. I felt so stupid.
The saga continues. I have to call Workman's Comp and file a claim. The Claim's Rep laughs at me. Great. I laugh too because it's funny in a cosmically retarded kind of way because only I would really do something like this. I then have to fill out a report for my agency and the building I work in because it's a leased building. It comes down to "described the offender" and I write "mouse". What else am I supposed to write? I imagine even more people getting a kick out of that. I waste about a tank of gas driving from my work to my PCP (20 minute drive) then back to work to only be told I will have to take an antibiotic but that otherwise I'm fine. The mouse is not considered rabid since I "provoked" him.
The moral of the story is - if you see a mouse, keep walking.
posted by mllnclly79 @ 7:36 AM
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