You haven't heard from me in a few days because I've been on possum watch....David and I now sit on the stairs to our basement with rolling pins in our hands waiting for the clicking sound which signals the arrival of possums.
We've killed five so far, and the bloodbath isn't over.
Today a faculty member, formerly from the Southern part of the US, informed me that the beasts will keep coming as long as the scent trail into our basement exists. "Get yoself some ammonia and clean that place up!" he yelled at me over the telephone, safe in his hotel room in another state.
But where to begin? We really don't know how they're getting into our basement, but one of us has got to get brave and find out. I keep pointing my finger at David ("you're the man, YOU do it!") and he keeps finding other things to do ("Honey, where'd you put my shoe polish?" which is completely unbelievable given he doesn't own a pair of leather shoes) Maybe we need a dog.
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