I love the cabin. I really really do. I love that we can get away ever weekend to this amazing, peaceful place. I love that I can lay out on the dock and do nothing all day. I love that the lake is a million degrees warmer than the Pacific Ocean I had gotten used to. I love the cabin.
I do not love spiders. I do not love spiders who hide behind (and inside!) pans, then jump onto my bacon when I move pans. I do not love spiders who leave their webs around the cabin, making me constantly aware that there are spiders hiding everywhere. I do not love spiders.
I do not love ants. I do not love big black ants who make themselves known when I’m walking down the stairs, making me jump three steps down and nearly kill myself. I do not love ants.
I do not love slivers. I do not love slivers that find their way into my skin even when I’m extra careful touching everything. I do not love the splinter that I sat on, making me squeal like a stuck pig. I’m sure I looked like one too. I do not love splinters.
Lastly, I do not love mice. I do not love the mice that never made an appearance before this weekend. I do not love mice who lull me into a false sense of security, then suddenly commit suicide via mousetrap right next to the fridge, so that when I go to fill up my water bottle with Dr. Pepper, I turn into my mother and make that frightening gasp/loud intake of breath that makes everyone around me think I’m surely dying. I surely thought I was too.
I do not love the mouse who Colin referred to as “just a mouse”. I do not love that mouse because it was NOT “just a mouse,” it was a mouse whose sad dead eyes stared into mine, burning that moment into my brain for the rest of my life. I do not love that tiny, terrorizing vermin whose death kept me up all night, sure that any squeak, creak or click was his or her entire mouse family coming to attack me in my sleep. I do not love mice.
I love the cabin.