It's no secret that I'm incredibly lonely here. I don't really have friends here yet, and I just found out my roommate is moving out* so I'm about to get even lonelier. One of the things I hate most about Hawaii is that it's so far west of and so many hours behind everyone I know that by the time I get home from work in the evenings, everyone I could possibly want to talk to is asleep already.
Tonight, after signing off Gchat with some friends and reading some scriptures for the night, I get a call from my former roommate Lindsay, who lives in Charlestown. I wasn't too shocked to get the call, as she's usually a late-night type of gal, but in her call she said she had been asleep, and had been woken up by the sound of a mouse in her trash can. Apparently the Charlestown apartment is infested with mice, much more severely than last fall.** As all of the other roommates were asleep, she tried to figure out who might still be awake whom she could call for mouse advice. So she called me.
I offered a few suggestions: some humane (move the trash can into the laundry room and deal with it in the morning), some not (put it outside and let it freeze to death; put it in the bathtub and throw a lit match in there). I have no idea what she ended up doing, but while we were talking, I realized that it was only moments before she called me that I was lamenting my lack of human conversation. It's definitely one of those General Conference spiritual prompting stories, but instead of a still small voice, it was a squeak and a rustle in the bottom of a trash can.
I guess I have something to be thankful for in my prayers tonight.
*She's graciously still going to pay half of the rent, thank goodness.
**Still better than roaches.