...Something is rotten in Denmark. Or I should say, under my house. I wish ’tweren’t true. But, I fear ’tis. True, I mean.
I have red squirrels nesting under my house. Well, they go under and then up. Up into the walls, along the edge of my bathtub.
Taking a bath some evenings is often quite interesting. I occassionally imagine what would happen if, as I soaked, a squirrel suddenly developed the ability to move through walls. Both of us freaking out the instant it materialized on my side of the wall. Naked wet squirrel and naked wet me. Picture: the cartoon drawing of a big messy ball with arms and legs sticking out off and on as it spins. Water flying everywhere.
So. There is a smell in this house that is at once, sweet and at twice, sickly. And the odor is everywhere. No escape. Oy.
I am reminded of the smell that hung in my hospital room 30 years ago. ’twas me ’twas rottin’. My arm. Gas gangrene. I would link a picture but gangrene is really gross. If you must see, Google it. I warned you. You’re on your own.
Like the squirrel.