The straight poop

I opened up my Ram ProMaster van about two weeks ago and couldn't help but notice a few tiny rodent poop scattered in the back. Hmmm.

When I opened my door in the morning of my last night in Santa Barbara, a little mouse jumped out, couldn't have been much bigger than an inch. 

Very cute. 

He or she now has a new home up the coast in a very upscale berg.

Jury is still out if any rodent comrades are left in the van.

*

Speaking of poop, I went shopping for contact paper to mail a watercolor yesterday and stopped by both the Dollar Store and Grocery Outlet. Nada. Neither store had what I needed.

I contemplated stopping at Albertsons but knew that I had a visitor knocking loudly in my colon and decided I had better skedaddle back to my office post haste to drop the kids off at the pool. Contact paper could wait.

I got to the back door (no pun intended) and inserted my key in the lock. 

Lo and behold, the key broke off, right in the middle. 

I was able, knees knocking, with all of the dexterity my arthritic hands could muster, to fish the small broken bit out of the lock.

But alas, this is no way relieved my own present difficulty. Lucky I still had a key to my wife's shop and no one would be the wiser.

But it was touch and go for a second there.

Afterwards, I went down to Hank's, Joe's, Ace Hardware, whatever you call it, nobody ever present anymore at Bruce's old locksmith shop. Guy wasn't sure if he could replace it, finally taped the parts together and thankfully, made it all work.

Timing is everything, no? Tragedy narrowly averted.