Over the weekend, I discovered a mouse living in my tool closet. Technically speaking, two other people saw the mouse first, and of course the mouse knew he was living there, but I'm the one writing about it, which makes it my discovery. I'm not terribly clear on why he chose that closet for his residence, especially since the closet across the hall has the dog food in it. Maybe the mouse enjoys having to take a stroll before lunch. Maybe he just prefers paint chips. I tried to ask him why he'd picked the tool closet, but he just ran away.

I've done what anyone would do upon discovering a mouse living in their tool closet, which is to say I've named him Tool Mouse and begun asking him where things are. So far, this system is working out very well for me! I was able to quickly locate two specific tools after asking him, which perhaps does not seem impressive unless you've seen my tool closet. Most things in my house have some sort of underlying organizational system; it's rarely been maintained, but at least there's some semblance of order once you dig through the first strata. The tool closet, on the other hand, is essentially a cross-section of a pit. There are shelves, but they're sort of incidental. There's a deep layer of plastic bags at the bottom, which possibly go all the way to the back wall and possibly shroud things I've forgotten about from view. There are several saws somewhere in there, numerous screwdrivers, random boxes of nails and screws, all haphazardly stacked. Come to think of it, I'd been assuming that my father had the chainsaw, but it's possible that that's in there, too, and I just don't know about it. It's a very remote chance, but it's not entirely implausible.

I've always meant to clean it up, but it's such a massive undertaking that I never want to. And it's one of those things where the first step is taking everything out and spreading it all out across the hallway so it can be organized, which means there's no stopping halfway through; once I begin, I'm committed until the end, unless I want to just not use my front hallway.

The presence of Tool Mouse means that this tedious task can be avoided. He'll keep track of things for me, even if I keep piling them in any which way. There's still the ever-present danger of large wooden stakes suddenly dropping from higher shelves, and of course the possibility of grabbing a bladed object by mistake, but those can be mitigated with a hard hat and gloves, both of which I have. Of course, I keep them in the tool closet, but that's a minor issue.

Tool Mouse helped me fix my cellphone last night, too. I'd placed it on the balcony of my second floor so that I could hear it from the attic, not realizing that a cat might wonder about this new ladder into the ceiling and jump up onto the balcony for a better look. The phone survived the fall fairly well, but one of the hinge pins popped off and skittered off to places unknown. I looked for it for several minutes, then opened the tool closet.

"Tool Mouse!" I called. "Where's the pin for my cellphone? It looks like this," sticking the phone into the closet for him to examine.

The closet was silent, but as I closed it, I spotted the missing piece lying on the floor near my foot. I assume Tool Mouse shoved it out for me, which was nice of him, since I hadn't had the patience to wait. I snapped my phone back together, and so far, it's working perfectly. Thanks, Tool Mouse!

Mood of the Moment: happy
Auditory Hallucination: Repo -- Infected