matches and mice

Halfway through our vacation in Rockport, Mass. we were awakened by odd sounds. At first it seemed like someone was jiggling the front doorknob. A heart-pounding sweep with a flashlight turned up nothing. One of us went back to bed, the other watched the Olympics on t.v. A half hour later, noises returned but not as loud. Instead of coming from the front door, it sounded like tiny rodent claws on a shelf. Again with the flashlight and, since the shelves held old apothecary jars, it was transparently clear that mice were not running the shelves.

With less panicked listeniing it seemed that the mouse was behind a large wooden beam. Instead of just clawing, the noise was more of a chewing as if the wood doorjamb between the the bedroom and the other half of the cabin was a tasty treat. Because the beam was sheathed with a board, I couldn't actually see the critter. But I could detect exactly where he was. So with a vicious slap that comes from being awakened from sleep, my hand made such a boom when it struck the wood that the gnawing instantly stopped. And because the sounds stopped and never returned, sleeping should have been restful for the balance of our visit.

Except for the lingering fear induced by Billy Collins. In addition to all of the old stuff displayed in this country hourse, there was a container that appeared to be a match dispenser. I deduced this becaause Matches" is emboseed on it. Old and made of tin, it likely held strike-anywhere matches. It's only a small comfort that it is empty. If it is here purely for display, that's okay. But if it did once hold matches, where did they go? Just around the corner from this match dispenser in a kitchen drawer is a box of matches. Unlike the poem "The Country" these are red-tipped (not blue) and must be struck against the box (rather than anywhere) in order to flare. Nevertheless, these matches are not in a metal container with a lid that can be tightly screwed. I am quite relieved that if there is to be a torch-bearing, brown druid at this address that tonight is the last night in which we will be here.