mouse in my shower

there was a mouse in my shower, the other day. i don't think it was a rat, but i didn't stop screeching and flailing long enough to discern one from the other. it was a rodent. not a cute top-hat-wearing-singing-dancing-possibly-cooking-French cuisine rodent. it was just plain upsetting.

the timeline of events:

i woke up around 7am and puttered about my apartment for awhile; made breakfast, checked emails, read the news, then decided i ought to shower and start my day. i walked over to my bathroom, pulled aside the shower curtain to turn on the faucet, and...

OGOD. something small, brown and furry was staring directly at me in my birthday suit. and then it began running the length of the tub, unable to climb the surface and get out. back and forth. it ran.

i screamed. then i covered myself, as if i was worried about a rodent seeing me naked. as if i was worried that it was going to run back to all of it's rodent-buddies and talk about how it saw a naked chick. i don't know what i was thinking.

apparently, i was thinking enough to grab my robe and run to the kitchen where i grabbed some TUPPERWARE. yes, tupperware. i wanted to keep the mouse as fresh as possible, after it was done showering.

i ran back to the bathroom and decided i didn't want to touch the curtain, so i climbed from my toilet to the sink and watched the tiny, frightened creature continue to run the length of the tub, until it wore itself out and stopped, panting in a corner. i felt so bad for it. except i didn't. i was scared out of my mind.

i called my building manager.

"Matt. There is a fucking MOUSE. IN. MY. SHOWER." i breathed into the phone, as quietly as possible, because, you see, i didn't want the mouse to know i was talking about it. god, panic will do some strange things to a person.

"What? A mouse? Waitaminute. Who IS this?"

"Ah. Right. Sorry. It's Shama. In 1B. With a mouse. Please come and get it. Soon."

he showed up and walked straight over to the bathroom while i cowered in the kitchen. i found an old shoebox and walked it over just in time to see Matt, framed in the doorway, wearing one shoe on his foot, clutching the other in his hand before he swung downwards. he bludgeoned the poor thing to death. i witnessed a murder.

i ran back into the kitchen, trying to breathe. i had enough wherewithal about me to write a quick email to my editor at "Conscious Choice" about why i was going to be late. as i sent the email, Matt came out, holding the shoebox and giving me a reassuring look.

"It's okay. I think it was some one's pet," he said.

Aw, crap. now i was worried about some kid's pet instead of some random pest. i cried, bleached my tub and went through the rest of my day, completely disturbed and upset.

the was a mouse in my shower. what do you DO with that?