There I was — knee-deep in Saturday morning chaos — trying to retrieve a rogue LEGO brick from under a dusty, wobbly shelf.
You know the kind.
The one that leans like the Tower of Pisa.
The one that collects dust bunnies like trophies.
And as I reached in with a ruler (because who uses their hands for this?), I felt it.
A lumpy, sticky, crunchy mass.
My brain went straight to the worst-case scenario:
“Oh no. A dead mouse.”
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