Look, I'm not totally clear on what's considered privileged information at the AP skyscraper.

I'm sure there are lots of things (like Scott's love of Journey and my love of pretty much any band I love–Soundgarden, Chevelle, Silverchair) that the higher-ups would prefer didn't get out.

But here's the thing: My life is so utterly uninteresting that if something of even a remote semblance of excitement occurs, I'm forced to jump on it for blog fodder.

So when I encountered the elusive AP office mouse yesterday, my initial reaction was, "Eep." My secondary reaction was, "Thank god. I have something to blog about tomorrow."

First of all, having mice is nothing to be ashamed of. It's not a sign that you're any more slovenly than any other national music publication.

Mice is everywhere, son.


At any given moment, you're probably about six feet (or less) away from a mouse. They're all through walls and floors everywhere.

But you only ever realize they're there when an especially brave (or stupid) one blows their ninja-like stealth system and decides to run out into the open. Still, you probably wouldn't ever know that a mouse had ever been near you if they could somehow refrain from constantly pooping as they run. (If humans were like this, the Olympics would be a completely different affair.)


We'd been hearing a lot of rumors about the presence of a mouse within the last week. I'm not sure if there was any visual confirmation.

But yesterday, when I went to the office to blog and get a little caught up on some things (pick up the Sour Patch Kids I left there), I noticed a lot more mouse running evidence than usual.

He was close. I knew that. But I didn't want to show fear.

I went about my blogging and walked into the hall to grab some pages I'd printed. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a tiny flash a few feet away. I assumed it was just a ghost, since the AP office after hours is creepy as h.

But then on my way back, I saw it dart back across the kitchen.

It's really difficult to photograph a mouse, since they move about 400 mph and can fit through a space the size of a dime, so you'll have to just go by this artist's rendering.

I cornered it behind the couch in the kitchen with nothing but a garbage bag and a big, empty box to trap it.

I stood there motionless for a good eight minutes. Periodically, I'd hear a little shuffling.

After a few more minutes I decided the time was right.

I quickly shook the couch, for some reason thinking I could catch up to it when it scurried away.

But there was nothing.

Then I was scared.

Could this be a ghost mouse?

That's way scarier than just a ghost or a mouse.

So I decided the best thing I could do would be stay absolutely still.

For 23 minutes.

When I finally gave up, I let my guard down and turned around.

And it was standing right behind me, next to the table.

Then I chased it around the kitchen with the box much like Chevy Chase or Wile E. Coyote would.

And then it was gone.

So I went back to my desk to gather my things and I began to shut down my computer.

It was then that I noticed there was a lot more mouse running evidence all over my desk.

I can't be certain it wasn't there before.

But I do think I know where that mouse was during the 23 minutes I was stalking it.