Of Mice and Me...

So I was going to write about some of the concerts I've been going to, but why write about that when I can write about THIS?:

So this morning I got up and took a shower and was getting dressed, preparing myself for a hopefully productive day (I can tell you that at least 1/3 of the productivity didn't come to pass, because as I write this I'm waiting for a meeting with a documentary film maker and he has about 15 minutes to show up before I have to leave), and I decided I was feeling refreshed enough to try to mix it up a little.  You know, I thought, why not wear a NEW shirt instead of the same one you've been wearing for the past two days?  OOH, and you could even liven it up a little MORE and wear a shirt you haven't even WORN here yet!  So, I was feeling quite satisfied with myself for having made such a bold decision for a Monday morning, and I confidently pulled open my clothes drawer (which is part of the bottom of my bed frame) to investigate the possibilities.  Let's see... red shirt, black shirt... WHA...?!?!?!?!?!?!

That's right folks.  Today was AWESOME.  I started out the day opening my clothes drawer to find...

A DEAD MOUSE!  Yup!  He was sprawled all over my black shirt, and I have no idea how long he'd been there.  I thought I smelled something funky, but I thought it was that my towel hadn't dried out all the way or something.  And, my nose is in general pretty pathetic, so I don't always notice smells that are obvious to others.  I HOPE I didn't have rotting-mouse-smell in my room for days at a time... I suspect it died maybe 2 days before.  The CSI-Dakar forensics team would probably posit that it had to have died at least a while ago because rigor mortis had set  in, but I didn't bother to call them to confirm this.

ANYway...  So of course I let out a horribly girly scream which I'll forever be ashamed of, and called Thomas (French neighbor) over to take a look.  He said, "Que-ce qu'y a?" (What is it?) and I just covered my face and pointed.  He smiled and went to the kitchen and got a paper towel and a plastic sac and came back and proceeded to dispose of the mouse.  I thanked him, and he said he's used to this sort of thing because apparently his apartment in Rouen is overrun with mice.  (By the way, you should hear a true Normand pronounce "Rouen" sometime - I think it's right up there with "squirrel" for Germans as far as inpronouncability - for Americans (me), at least). 

Anyway, so I thought - ok, great!  Mouse corpse gone!  Excellent!  Now, on to removing the tainted-with-mouse-death clothing and putting them in a laundry sac.  So I gingerly picked up the befouled clothing and ... LO and BEHOLD, what lie underneath but:  ....MAGGOTS!!!  At least, I THINK that's what they were.  Some kind of nasty squirmy wormy kind of thing that made me almost vomit all over the remainder of the clothes.  My stomach curdled and lept up into my throat and I gagged and screamed and called Thomas back in, this time with my most pathetically girly voice yet.  I just gagged and pointed.  By this time, Brigitte, the housekeeper, had gotten involved, and she (one of the strongest women I know, physically and mentally) braved the drawer and managed to scoop up all of the vile offenders into some paper and throw them all into the trash.  After profusely thanking Thomas and Brigitte for disposing of these gag-inducing menaces, I made a quick exit.

So, that was my morning!  YAY!

Later...:

Concerts:

Archie Shepp
Manu Dibango
Marcus Miller
Stanley Clarke
Baaba Maal