Finally you find something, but as you're zipping yourself up your 3-year-old comes in and decides that the closet is not in fact a closet, but a train headed for a distant locale.
I've packed my cold-weather clothes, and a clock ($60) that I stole from the divinity school library, the only place on campus I could take any solace.
Every morning after that, the mice and the littlepeople dressed in their running gear26 and headed27 over to Cheese Station C. It wasn't long before they each established their own routine.