Snowshoes

As you know, snow has finally arrived at the cabin. Yesterday I made the trek down to the local store to get some milk. It was unfortunately shut down, but I enjoyed the walk nonetheless. The only drawback was that my inadequate running shoes were slipping and sliding everywhere.

I figured I would just wait until Christmas when my family visits and brings snowshoes with them. But when I talked to Mom and Pitza last night, they suggested I simply borrow my grandmother's shoes. Duh. We wear the same size, why didn't I think of that?

This morning I rummage through Pitzas closet and find a nice pair of little galoshes. I try them on and they're perfect. "Great," I think "problem solved." But then I glimpse, at the back of the closet, a beautiful pair of fur lined winter boots. Nice boots. Boots that scream - "I'd keep your feet warm hiking up Everest!"

Unable to resist, I grab them and bring them out. I open up the tops of the shoes, move my foot towards the opening, and glimpse, at the very bottom, little scraps of kleenex. "Now why would she stuff the toes?" I think. Then I remember. The little shredded Kleenex we found in Cole's room, the little skittering figures in the garage, the mouse traps set up all over the house.

I don't think I've ever moved that quickly in my life. The boots were chucked out in the snow so fast, the mice are probably still dizzy. I have no idea if they're still in there, or if it was an old nest. All I know is I'm not touching those boots until I see little mousy footprints leading away from them. Or, you know, until Cole wakes up and checks them for me.

I'm just glad all my toes are still intact.