The Frugal Hostess hates you, mouse. |
Feel faint. Almost faint, even if you've never fainted before.
Call your husband.
Cry.
Slam a beer.
Cry harder.
Go in another room. Slam second beer.
Contemplate suicide.
Contemplate getting in your car and driving away forever.
Cry.
Clean it up in a frenzy only matched in it's rage-fueled fervor by your mother's after the Sleep Away Camp Lice Incident of 1988. Bleach everything.
Bleach yourself.
Cry.
The end.
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