...by small men in uniform.
Everywhere I turned, they had taken up tactical positions.
They scaled our grain buckets, laid out an airfield in front of our art cabinet, and were in battle formation in front of the back door.
I accidentally stepped on one. He broke. Their commander in chief was sad when I pronounced him beyond repair and accordingly discharged him from duty (threw him in the trash).
Apparently they can be overcome.
The threat of the vacuum cleaner caused for a quick retreat.
They re-established themselves across the middle of the living room just prior to bedtime.
We will see if the battle has advanced by morning light.
If they become too much, Hoover will once again oversee a retreat.
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