Mouse in the House

Last night GG and I went out for dinner at the new Benihana by the Plymouth Meeting Mall. It was pretty good, but I think I still prefer Hibachi – the food is as good or better, it’s less expensive, and the chefs do better tricks. But Benihana was really good! The only bad thing about dinner was that at our 8-person table, there was GG and I at one end, then an empty chair, then this group of five annoying people who were out to celebrate the one girl’s birthday. They were all making special requests, one of the guys was obnoxiously joking around with the waiter the whole time, then there was this pregnant woman who just complained about everything and had them make up some special combination meal just for her… Ugh. But dinner was good otherwise.

Afterward, since we were right there, we decided to walk over to the mall for a little bit. We entered through Boscov’s, which faces Benihana. After walking around a while, we got some ice cream from Dairy Queen, and then headed back out through Boscov’s, taking a quick swing through their furniture department just to look around. Boscov’s is sort of a sad department store, we were comparing it to Sears in the ’80s. As we were walking past a couple with a salesman trying out a sofa, a black mouse ran out from under a piece of furniture on my left, ran across the aisle where we were walking, and ended up under the sofa the people were trying out! I could not believe it! At first I thought it was some sort of dust ball blowing around, until it kept running. GG barely saw it and mostly noticed a black blur. And the people trying out the sofa weren’t sure what to do, as the salesman kicked the couch trying to scare the mouse out from under it. Blech! That Boscov’s also has a big chocolate/candy counter, which is very close to where we saw the mouse, so if someone offers you some chocolate from Boscov’s Plymouth Meeting, I would politely turn them down.

2 comments on “Mouse in the House

  1. Your live traffic feed frightens me. It’s bad enough my employer knows every website I visit, I don’t need you stalking me through the interweb.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

*