That mouse and my smile.

Okay, Mr. Mouse, toy with me.  I'm hard at work, and you decide to walk back and forth above my head on the other side of the drop ceiling.  I hear that tiny laughter of joy knowing that at any minute I'm going to leave my desk, go to lunch or go home for the day.  It seems when I turn up my music, your walk gets faster.  Perhaps you are dancing to the beat or you know when the music stops, you can come down from the ceiling.  

Your days are numbered, Mr. Mouse.  You ate my gluten-free granola and then washed it down with my tea.  You decided to be polite and leave presents in the box so I wouldn't notice all my granola missing.  I'm smarter than that, Mr. Mouse.  Granola does not look black, so HA!

This is a fight to the death.  I will probably lose by falling through the drop ceiling while you mock me.  I might hit my head against the underside of my desk while chasing you, however, I will not quit until I catch  you.  What is my plan after I catch you, you may ask?  As angry as I am, I will shake my finger at you, yell at you, and take you outside where you belong.  All I ask, do not eat my food and do not return to the place you call home.

My life is not Lupus.  Sometimes, I think about things like the above.  Or, the time, I tried to steal a hair pin shaped as a spider but caught in the cotton webbing instead.  My laughter at that moment was so real, that my stomach hurt.  The mouse makes me laugh at work.  Spending time with friends and family makes me smile, and sometimes, spending time alone, writing can make me smile, even laugh at myself.  Who ever thinks about mice, granola, and getting caught up in fake cobwebs.