When I found her she was on a ladder, a saw in hand, and a gaping hole above her head. She was crying a little, mumbling something almost indiscernible about Hantavirus.
I was glad to see the stain on the ceiling had finally been removed after months of complaining about it. She didn't want to find the leaky pipe behind it. I didn't like the mold growing in it. They had no idea they would be evicted days before Christmas.
I wasn't sure I wanted to ask about the Virus. Turns out neither one of us was right. We should have listened to Parker. No wonder she hated coming here, the walls spoke to her. She thought she was going crazy. While we were all nestled and snug in our bed, full bladdered meeces pissed on her head. Poor Parker.
When I went back in, she was still on the ladder, now armed with a mask, gloves, and head lamp. Mouse poop raining down like snowflakes on a cold, crisp, winter afternoon. Fiberglass insulation floating in the air like angel dust. Actual tinsel and wrapping paper hung from the ceiling...with care. How sweet, they decorated for the Holidays.
And here comes the Grinch...all five feet of her....throwing the tiny family out on their ears on the eve of winter, the nasty blizzard blowing across the land. We discussed shoving Gus into the hole and leaving him there to feast. I'm pretty sure he'd eat through the wall. And really...what are these cats doing all day? I don't think they deserve the the presents we just bought.
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