It takes effort to stay focused.
Tonight I swept the kitchen of crumbs and miscellaneous comestibles.
‘I’m going to be really good and make sure there’s nothing here to tempt rodents,’ I thought.
Then in the process of sweeping, I imagined the tiny little mice waiting in the wings, catching sight of me with the broom and letting out a really heart-wrenching, ‘Ohhhhhhhhhhhh’ sound of disappointment at the willful clearance of some perfectly tasty morsels, straight into the food-recycling bin, where they were going to do nobody any good at all lounging around alongside the spent lemons and tea-bags.
(The sound would not be full of self-pity but understated- a letting-down sigh, like a balloon deflating.)
All day it had been building, the promise of a feast you could wrap your pink nose around and exult in; the kind of meal that would give you a great night’s sleep and a promising start to a new week.
And I imagined them hanging their heads a bit lower than usual and padding back on their miniature paws and not having the energy to talk about it amongst themselves (what would there even be to say?)
And just buggering off to bed with empty tummies and the hollow dream of an unswept Galaxy niblet later in the week.
And for one crazy-horse moment I considered replacing a bit of the mess because one thing I can’t stand is disappointment.
But- for tonight, at least- I did not.
Because I remembered that there’s one thing I can’t stand more than the disappointment of mice.
And that is mice.