I just rolled back my chair from the desk and heard a repeated, annoying squeak-squeak-squeak only to find I'd rolled over the neck of a diminutive, three-inch Norwegian field mouse. It took me three swats from a rolled-up issue of Reason Magazine to put it out of its misery. Yeah, there's lots of symbolism there, along with the splotch of mouse death throe puke left on the carpet. But living outside of Chicago, we take this as a routine sign of Spring. Send Carpet Fresh and donuts ASAP, please.