Jusst Wake Me in The Common Room

Each night, before going to bed, Husband tells me,
[If you need anything, just wake me. ”He’s totally sincere, but I have to lock my jaw to keep from laughing.

Long ago, when we were young, and poor, we lived in an old farmhouse in Abilene, Texas, just across from the experimental farm of Abilene Christian College. It had been made into a duplex

The closest neighbor was the landlord on the next lot over. His house and the farmhouse were surrounded by fields of grass, for hay. The next closest residence was a quarter of a mile down the road, where a strange old widow kept a few vegetable crops, a chicken house full of hens and a dairy with three cows.

There were no other houses for miles around.

The farmhouse was made of wood and was in the last stages of decay. We were awakened each morning by the sound of chickens pecking at the bugs in the boards of the long, unsteady front porch.

The rooms were large, with high ceilings and sagging floors. There was a big pantry with no light and shelves up to the ceiling - couldn’t see a thing in there. I used a flashlight to get a can of beans.

There was a big, high, dark attic above and an ill-fitting trap door to it, in one of the closets. That attic gave me the creeps. There were mice - field mice - always. No matter how many you killed, there were more

The boards that were meant to be siding sagged so that the wind often whistled through the walls in winter. there was only one heating stove in our side of the duplex. It was a small natural gas heater in the bedroom where our first daughter slept. That room was an add-on and was tight and well roofed

Husband was sleeping. I was too cold and too pregnant to sleep. I was wearing two pair of socks (one of them his), a thick flannel gown and a robe of heavy chenille - one of those wrap around-tie with a belt-wide sleeved-clear to the floor robes that used to be popular. In it I was not quite shivering

It was totally forbidden to use the cook stove for heat, so I decided to make some cookies. There was a little flour and some peanut butter (from commodities given to my grandmother by the state - she couldn’t eat it) so cookies were marginally possible.

The stove had a compartment to the side of the oven. That compartment had two drawers for keeping pans and such. I lit the oven and opened the compartment. When I reached into the first drawer a mouse ran across the cookie sheet I had reached for, up my hand and straight up the inside of my sleeve —get that? – THE MOUSE RAN UP THE INSIDE OF MY SLEEVE .

I did the natural thing - shrieked “Mouse, Mouse” and ran for the bedroom where Husband was sleeping, shaking the sleeve and trying to divest myself of the robe - you know what women feel - that mouse was going to run up somewhere else. Don’t tell me it’s highly unlikely - it was a mouse.

I jumped (very pregnant and all) up onto the bed and bounced up and down, still shrieking – “mouse, mouse.” I don’t know how long that continued. I know the robe went flying and the gown too. No mouse appeared or was to be felt on my person.

I heard the daughter (about 18 months) crying and went to sooth her, grabbing one of Husband’s shirts to cover myself a little. When I had soothed her and gotten her back to sleep, I went back into our bedroom and Husband was still snoring peacefully, without ever even turning in his sleep during all the disturbance.

“If you need anything, just wake me”

“Tell me another one, Hun!”