My mum has named it Mickey. Thanks mum. That makes me feel so much better.
What is it? Who is Mickey?
It's a mouse. Hence the name.
Why am I talking about a mouse? Because it is currently living under my fridge. Fuck.
It's been there for three days. And it won't fucking go away. Or die. Whichever comes first.
And my mum named it Mickey. So when I say that I wish it would just die and leave me alone, I get hit by a wave of guilt because I want Mickey Mouse to die.
And I don't want to kill it. I just sort of have to. I can't have a mouse living under my fridge.
It won't let me sleep, because it makes so much noise scratching away under there.
Fucking Mickey.
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