The Harry Potter nerd in me giggled at this return address:
And since I like spoiling surprises for myself, I checked out the customs declaration:
And yet somehow I wasn’t able to put two and two together to piece out what would actually be inside the box. Do your best Sherlock Holmes impression–what do YOU think was inside?
Even though I KNOW it’s dead, part of me wanted to shriek when I saw what was inside. And then I was torn between just taking a picture of it in the box, or actually touching it to clean off the styrofoam bits and pieces in order to get a good picture. For the record, touching a dead stuffed mouse is actually pretty (for lack of a better word) icky. I’m actually a little surprised that I’m as squicked by this as I am–I suppose eventually I will come to terms with it. For now, I really can’t deal with it staring at me with its beady, dead eyes. The IMPORTANT thing, however, is that the apartment manager is growing increasingly suspicious!