Ok, things in the haunted farmhouse have gotten out of hand. And I'm not just talking about the faulty wiring, but let's just say, I'm tired of living in an episode of Little House on the Prairie. No, what I'm really referring to is the mice. As I sit here, propped up in my bed, surfing the net...I mean, writing my final guest posts...I'm listening to what sounds like the opening scenes of West Side Story going on inside my walls.

"When you're a mouse, you're a mouse all the way, from your first piece of cheese, to your last dying day..."

So maybe the music is all in my head, but the fancy footwork is definitely all mouse. And these are no Disney mice. They're hooligans. I swear, I hear a full-on rumble going on. I can practically see them whipping out their little rodent switchblades as they dance around each other squeaking out Stephen Sondheim lyrics.

(Long pause as I listen)

They're going at it again. This time I know I hear them squealing. But maybe not the lyrics from West Side Story. It might be more along the lines of a scene from Willard. And Ben is leading the pack. I'm afraid to close my eyes. I may wake up to find them surrounding me, arms loaded with traps and sticky pads, ready to drag me off to the basement. They do that in New York City, you know. The rats there are so big, they've taken entire families out of their beds at night, never to be seen again. I read about that while standing in line at the grocery store.

I'm going to blame my hus...I mean, the IDP for this. It was his idea to set out traps. We even snagged a few of them. But those that got free have obviously sent for reinforcements. The cat caught one in the dining room last night, and made a show of feasting on him, out in the open, as a warning to the others. And now that cat is missing.

I smell a rodent uprising. This might be scarier than the pigs! Ok, forget the IDP, I blame George Orwell for putting these ideas in my head. If I hadn't read Animal Farm in middle school, I might not be having panic attacks about ducks, and pigs, and mice (oh my!) plotting my gruesome demise like an animated version of Tales from the Crypt.

Or maybe I just need to lay off the wine at bedtime.

Either way, I think it's time we called in a professional to take care of the mice. According to Bugs Bunny, we either need a lion, or an exterminator. Or a way bigger trap.

Until the next time...I'll be sleeping with one eye open!

I woke up this morning with an acute case of laryngitis. The funny thing is I don't know exactly when I discovered it, because I woke up completely alone. My husband had already headed into the yard to get the new piggies into their pen.

By the time I was up and around and ready to see the new little members of the family, they had escaped their bonds and wandered into the yard. It took several of us, and the dog, to wrangle them back to their own large section of the side pasture.

The chickens and ducks were watching from the sidelines, trying to figure out who the naked fatties were, making grunting noises as they munched on acorns and apple cores. I could tell the ducks were concerned. They continued to watch the pigs, beaks tilted to the side in quiet contemplation. It was obvious they were plotting, as only ducks can do. The chickens, on the other hand, were more concerned with the food, and repeatedly risked electrocution to tuck under the fence to sneak a peek at what the pigs had in their feeders.

The pigs couldn't have cared less about the others in the farmyard. They were simply thrilled to be roaming free, noses buried in dry leaves, rooting out nuts and seeds and whatever else pigs eat.

Today was the first day since we moved here that my husband felt like a real farmer. Covered in pig slop and other assorted nastiness. Accidentally zapping himself on electrified wires. Having to chase down runaway piglets. Twice.

All in all, it was a pretty good day at the haunted farm. Even if I couldn't find my voice to say a single thing about it. In fact, my total silence may have made it a perfect day for my husband. And I guess I can let him have that just this once.

Until the next time...I'll be waiting for my voice to come back.