I took a mouse handling class yesterday morning, to round out my rat/rabbit/mouse trio to add to my CV. Those little bastards like to bite you, let me tell you. But to be honest the most I will probably ever do (and have done) with mice is to euthanize them and harvest their organs.
Tomorrow my undergraduate student presents her poster, and it's sadly slow-going for getting it prepared. I hate last-minute writing. I've got QUITE enough of my own to get through.
On the way home from my swordfighting class some little truck full of mouthbreathing pseudoshitkickers stopped short when they thought I was going to run into them, and one of them gave me some kind of lipservice I couldn't hear, looking pleased with himself. So instead of parking I pulled behind them and tailed them for giggles. They stopped at a stopsign and turned left, I swung around it to follow. They eased past a redlight to get away from me, I just drove through it and made my tires screech to make it look fast. They ducked down a sidestreet, so I just stopped and watched them to make sure they knew I had them. Fuck you people, in my truck? Fuck you and your dutch courage - if you want to be a big man with your two friends, get a faster car.