Things are pretty bleak. I'm healthy and all - physically at least, and I'm not in crisis per se, but since returning from winter break, life has quickly gone from an episode of Hope and Gloria to Dr. Zhivago . You might be wondering why this is so. Seasonal blues? Maybe. Stress at work? Not really. I'm unreasonably theatrical? Yes, but the distressed state of my life does correlate to specific happenings, which are ongoing and worth complaining about. Bliss and I returned from Texas over a month ago to find that we now share the apartment with creatures. Mice, to be specific. Tiny, baby, disgusting mice that have the audacity to show themselves at all hours of the day. Not having dealt much with indoor rodents (I never envied my friends who were allowed to have hamsters), I always imagined mice to be sort of like burglars in the hours they kept. People who break and enter generally wait to get their work done until the inhabitants are gone or blissfully un