Sometimes you just need a man.

Okay I'm not normally a very needy single girl. In fact, most of the time, the lack of a man around the house is barely even noticeable. I have a great roommate, lots of good friends (of both genders) and a big family close by to call whenever I need help. Until the Lord decides to bring my husband along, it's usually a great alternative.

There are certain situations, however, when I just can't help but be a girly girl. Tonight, was one of them.

I needed a man. I'm not ashamed to admit it.

Barb and I got home a little before 10 and I decided to get the coffee ready before I headed up to bed. (As a side note, there's not much better than descending the stairs in a sleepy haze and being able to just flip a switch to brew the coffee. Someday perhaps I shall invest in a coffee maker with a timer.) Anyway, I digress. As I finished up with the coffee, I went to throw the old coffee grounds in the trash can, and I noticed a small black piece of trash that had apparently fallen out of the trash can. I leaned down to pick it up and as I was about to grab it, I noticed ... IT HAD A FACE. Two little beady eyes and a nose with some whiskers were staring back up at me. And a rather long tail protruding from the other end.

I jumped backwards, horrified at how close I'd come to grabbing up a MOUSE with my bare hands. I yelled to Barb that there was a mouse and then promptly took refuge on the counter (lest it decide to attack me.) She came down the stairs, but just far enough to look at the thing. And for the next few minutes, we stood there and looked at it, pondering the following:

1. Why is there a mouse in our house? We are not messy ... we do not leave food out. Aren't rodents attracted to food?
2. How did it get inside? There are no apparent openings to the great outdoors.
3. What do we do with it? We don't want it inside, but neither of us wanted to touch it.

It was at this moment that I realized how much I wished there was a man around. Not that he would know exactly how to get rid of the mouse. Or where it came from. Or why it was there in the first place. But I think dealing with unwanted rodents is something that most people would agree is a man's job - a role the husband usually assumes so the wife doesn't have to.

Unfortunately, at this present time of life, I am still waiting on a husband. And until that happens, I pride myself on being pretty capable. So I sucked it up, gathered my courage, and did what any single girl would do in this situation ...

I called my dad.