Happy Hour

No, not that magical hour around 3 PM 5 PM when you can start drinking your worries away.  I can forget about that hour for the next several months.

Happy Hour has a whole new meaning now. Actually, multiple meanings:

1. The one hour in the day when I am not hungry.  This does happen, but usually not on a daily basis

2. The blissful hour after work when I can finally put on pants with a stretchy waistband

3. The one hour at night when I am sound asleep 

Let me explain number 3.  If I am not waking up to go to the bathroom, then I am laying in bed with eyes wide open listening for the sound of mice in the house.  Since our apartment has many other wonderful noises, (ex: radiator) I tend to jump up every few minutes looking around for the culprit.  This really annoys Gene who wouldn't get out of bed if he had 20 mice crawling on top of him.  Some people fear spiders (arachnophobia), some fear dogs (cynophobia) and then there is me with my fear of mice (musophobia/murophobia). I am not sure that what I have can really be
called a phobia, but I really really hate those little critters.

Gene's Corner:
"I gained 4 lbs. That's more than you. What the hell!"