Party. My Bed. 3 am. BYOM

That's right - Bring Your Own Mouse. It's true - there's a mouse in the house. More specifically - a mouse in the bedroom that I am sleeping in. Doesn't have quite the same ring to it, but nonetheless, there's a MOUSE. I hate mice. Mice terrify me. Forget the fact that I am 1,000 times taller and, um *more* than triple the mouses weight. Or even that "he is more scared of you than you are of him."
Try telling that to my grade four teacher. Her daughter and I were very close friends, so I was often over at their house. I have a very vivid memory of said teacher standing on a chair in their kitchen screaming and flapping her arms because a mouse ran by. I think she imparted on me a fear for these little creatures. I don't think I have ever flapped my arms over a mouse, but I have had my share of screaming over these creatures and have woken a good number of people up because of it.
Like early this morning ... Judah and I are sleeping in my sisters room and when this now infamous mouse started his racket I awoke right away, turned on the light, and woke my sister up. We made noise, threw coat hangers and flashed the light several times, all in an attempt to scare him away. Didn't work. I wouldn't budge out of bed so my sister (yup, *younger* sister) got up and started the radio and turned the dehumidifier on so that it would run all night long. Brave girl. It did the trick though and the little mouse did not bother us again.