eviction

Lately we've had a squirrely housemate whose late night parties are in conflict with our early to bed, early to rise lifestyle. If he was paying rent, we might have allowed him to stay and continue to build his nut mountain empire in the corner of the attic, but he's a freeloader, so Wednesday was eviction day.

Since we don't own a ladder tall enough to reach what we think is Mr. Scurry's front door from the outside, we decided to tackle the issue from inside. And since I'm apparently not the only one in this house who is unable to leave well enough alone, it was determined that this was the time to do something we've been thinking about doing for a long time -- cutting a doorway between the original attic and the attic that's over the addition on the back end of our house. Ooh, power tools, filth, and the faintly perilous challenges of trotting around on unsecured plywood without misstepping through a ceiling -- the men in this house were ecstatic.

Did you know that taking a reciprocating saw to a beam in the attic of an old house causes the whole structure to vibrate in a way that makes life quite interesting for inhabitants trying to eke out a living by focusing on a computer screen? Did you also know that it poses a challenge for inhabitants recovering from a cold and laryngitis by quietly working on a cross stitch project while listening to Black Beauty as a book on cd?

Anyway, Mr. Scurry's access has been blocked, much filth was had by all who enjoy such things, we again captured an image of sawdust snow squall, and there's only a teensy new crack in the ceiling of my bedroom where a certain somebody's foot just barely missed the plywood.

It's all good. Except for the persistent rapping on the windows at night from some fuzzy dude whispering, "Hey, roomies, I forgot my key. Let me in!"