Mouse Trap

This post comes live from the eye of the storm. A dark, dreary, vicious storm. Okay, Galway may not be in the midst of hurricane Catriona, and maybe we might have been enjoying a slight good spell the last few days. Little snippets of sunshine and clear skies are active, it's a forecast Evelyn Cusack would be proud to announce to the nation.

I'm referring to a mental storm as currently I am in agony. I am curled up into the foetal position, swaddled tightly in a blanket, lying awkwardly on top of my unmade bed. I'm typing this post with one hand and sucking my thumb with the other, fighting back tears, rocking myself steadily back and forth seeking comfort after surviving a major panic attack roughly half an hour ago.

Yes, everything is very severe, crazy and dramatic but my day didn't start like this, it started off fine. I got up early, I had a shower, and I made breakfast (always a bonus). Just your typical run-of-the-mill sort of day. Hardcore normality. Until it came to my attention that I had an intruder. Someone sneaked into my home uninvited. I made this discovery just after finishing my breakfast. The invasion at least had the courtesy to wait until I had devoured my Corn Flakes.

( Picture via It.wikihow.com )

I saw a mouse, it paraded across my kitchen like it was someone contributing rent. I was in shock. We made eye contact, and for a nanosecond the world stood still. I saw the fear in its eyes, and it saw the fear in mine. Then I scurried like the vermin I am directly out of the kitchen and up the stairs into the safe confinements of my bedroom. I locked the door, and started playing music loudly to let it know I was somewhat still present.

Slightly mellow dramatic, I know. But these rodents are crafty and if it thought I had vacated the building it would start getting comfortable. It could start inviting friends, family members, half-cousins into the premises too. The television is left on downstairs, that bastard better not dare clock up my electricity bill, I know how addictive a marathon of Friends can get. So I need to make my nervous, hysterical presence known.

My house-mate is due home in two hours, but I don't think I can last that long. I don't know how to assess blood pressure, but I feel like mine is dropping fast, and within the next hour I could need to use the bathroom.

( Picture via Izamgs.com )

I've considered phoning emergency services. The fire brigade or some armed officers could intimidate this entity out of my life for good. They'd only need one bullet or a slice of cheese, it wouldn't be much hassle. But realistically what will they think of me? They'll judge me, even though we have these services for our own protection and well-being and it's my right to use them as I see fit.

The oxygen levels in this room are dropping and the longer I spend isolated the greater the chance I'll start developing agoraphobia. Then I might never end up leaving my room. I'm getting weaker and that thing downstairs is no doubt getting stronger, it's probably impervious to pain.

The times are confusing and certainties are hard to come by. Light a candle for me, keep me in your thoughts and prayers. I'll try and ride out this torturous ordeal until four. Admire my courage and strength. Speak highly of me to others. Heroes as I said last week come in all shapes and forms, just maybe not as little fury, taunting, wide-eyed, rodents.

#HopeForPatrick