I woke up out of a deep sleep in the wee hours of the morning two weeks ago. I had felt something brush against my shoulder near my neck. It was pitch black and the glasses that alleviate my extreme near-sightedness weren't within reach so I sat up and squinted around to see what it had been. I saw a large, dark spot on the short sleeve of my pajama shirt. In my sleepy, hazy mind I formed the immediate and unshakable conviction that there was a mouse on my sleeve.
In the daytime, I'm a rock. No snakes, mice, foxes, mink or any other locally grown critters faze me in the waking hours. That's one reason why I live in the area of the country where I do: There are no insects that can kill me. Take my glasses away and wake me up with the "certain" knowledge that there's a mouse on my shirt, however, and you have an entirely different scenario.
Cue the panic.
I started screeching, "Get it off me!' repeatedly and punching at the blankets. In hindsight, I'm not sure what striking at the blanket would've done to remove a mouse from my sleeve, but I've already established that I don't possess 20/20. My husband woke up and asked, "What's the problem? What are you..."
... And that was all he got out of his mouth before I punched him squarely between the legs.
My poor husband doubled over wheezing. I had knocked the wind out of him. And that was when I woke up properly. I immediately realized that the dark spot on my sleeve was actually my sleeve folded up on itself. While apologizing profusely and trying to help my husband, I found my previously missing glasses and deposited them on my nose. After my husband firmly established that the only thing he could do to help was to not do that ever again, I grabbed a flashlight and looked around. There were no mouse droppings anywhere and the culprit that had rubbed against my shoulder was a corner of my pillowcase.