We were up on top of a very high mountain, all snowy and craggy, kind of K2 like. Altitude sickness was a danger, but the other problem was that the tide was coming in, and where we were camped was going to be under water. S had gone off, I think to get the plane or the boat which would get us out of there, and I was trying to clean up the campsite and pack, worrying that I was going to get altitude sickness.
Then somehow I had these three tiny naked mice in the palm of my hand: tiny, they were maybe the length of half a finger. It seemed imperative that I take care of them, but I didn't know what to do with them, and I had so much to do.
A man went by, in some kind of limping crawling fashion, and he seemed like the obvious solution, so I asked him if he wanted some mice. He looked at me like I was crazy, and said of course he did not want mice. I looked down at the mice in my hand, and then I realized that while I'd been worrying about mice, the tide had almost come in, I had become almost delirious, and I needed to get across the remaining sand while I could. So I dropped the mice down into the snow cliff below.
I can't help thinking this has something to do with Sarah Palin. Or with me not having my priorities straight. Or with getting rid of things that I really shouldn't be worrying about (which is something I am strongly considering). Or perhaps just with being a spacy coldhearted bitch.