Just when I thought....

London was finished beating up on me, it found another way to throw me a one-two punch. Last night, "Mickey Mouse" decided to come by Kensington Square Gardens and pay me a little visit....unannounced. I didn't sleep at all because I have a little rodent living with me. After being scared shitless, I decided to get up (it was 5 AM by then) and seek out a 24-hour Walmart/Grocery store of some sort. Only I remembered I'm no longer in the states and everything here closes at 7 PM!! So I used my God-given right brained talents to "trap" that mothafucker. I pushed all my suitcases up against the places I last saw him, then stuffed blankets and towels into the holes, hoping and praying his little ass couldn't get through it. I decided that after all of that if he did twist and weave his way through my "trap", then he deserved to get me. I sat there for 45 more mins, going back and forth in my mind whether or not mice could jump and if they could, did they get a kick out of jumping on humans. Finally, I went to sleep. My conscience wouldn't let me sleep long, so I woke up extra early to catch my landlord, Alex to let him know I had a little problem. And that if he didn't fix it ASAP, I'd be bunking in his room the next night. He informed me that London was an old town and that "here, we sleep amongst mice". "SAY WHAT!, Um, well Mister, I'm from the states and we don't! Can you please get it out?" He put out another little box trap thingy, that the mouse is supposed to walk/run into and die. Yeah right. Mice aren't stoopid. So yeah, I'm about to call pest control.