Blogspot, I feel bad!
I have successfully managed to destroy a life this afternoon. Sure, it's a mouse. A mouse that's been invading my work space for well over 2 weeks now, pooping on my desk, eating my candy, and just plain grossing me out. But I caught a glimpse of its tiny gray mouse face shortly after it ate the poison and its tugging at my heartstrings. Is it silly to be sad that this creature is off dying somewhere in the vicinity of my office (hopefully not under my desk)? Is it these crazy prego hormones that have me so worked up? There's no reason to cry for poisoning an office invader, right? Right!
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