Shelly found a dead mouse in the closet. Of course we didn't know it was dead. We thought it was holding perfectly still because Shelly was standing guard over it while I ran next door to get the Great White Hunter. Turns out it wasn't just intimidated. In fact, it had been deceased for quite some time according to the next door dead mouse expert. And yes, I finished that tiramisu and I'm not sorry. On an unrelated note, I wonder how many chubby little fingers are going to adjust Dave's stereo before it dies:
Lane looks like he knows what he's doing. Dad will thank him. That blasted CD player was making me crazy anyway. It needs some adjusting-or a kick or two!
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