Driving Mister Mouse

                                          Mister Mouse drawing by Jamie Cat Callan, created for Seth Schulman's novel "The Delicates"

Imagine this. You’re driving down I-95, going over the speed limit, but goddarnit, you’re in a hurry. You’ve racing toward the hospital. The ER! You need an appendectomy tout de suite!

But then, a mouse leaps onto your shoulder. And then another and another. They take over the wheel, they steer you into the direction of Burger King. They’re hungry. And they’re mice! Mice are impatient. They commandeer the take-out window and climb into the restaurant. It’s mouse mayhem! 

Okay, this didn’t happen to me, but it did happen to a good friend of mine.

No, that’s not true either.

This is all in my imagination. I have a vivid imagination.

However, there are really mice in my car. I have yet to actually see the mice, but they’re there. The good folks at Van Allen's tried to take care of the situation. And they did. But then, the mice returned. (I’ve never actually seen the mice, because apparently they only like to come out and party at night.) 

Everyone in town has told me that this is the price you pay for living in the country.

You want to live on a farm? You want to live far away from I-95. Well folks, then this is what you can expect!

Mice!

I suppose I'm a bit of a Citdiot. This is the name locals call people who moved from the city to the Hudson River Valley. But, I want to say--we didn't move from the city to the Valley! We moved here from Cape Cod! People always look at me like I'm crazy when I say this. Why would you leave Cape Cod? Well, this is one of the reasons I was happy to leave Cape Cod--because people were so smug about living on the Cape that they never left. But, we left because we wanted to live on a farm.

And now, I have mice in my car.

But I assure, creative friends--not for long. I am looking for a new car. A mouse free car.

And in the meantime, I have a creative prompt for you. Consider what wild creature would unravel you. No—truly unravel you. And now, make peace with that wild creature--because you know what? That wild creature is really you. He's your anima. 

And yes, you can thank Dr. Freud for that creative prompt. 

Love,

Jamie