Well, it's Autumn. Season of mellow fruitfulness, misty mornings, glittering gossamer webs (with the fattest arsed spiders) - and 6.30am discussions on Sunday with DTwatCat, asking him what the fuck he has done with the head whilst giving the rest of the unfortunate rodent cadaver a ceremonial shroud of kitchen paper and committing its mortal remains to the loving embrace of the wheelie bin.
He spent 6 hours outside yesterday, largely thundering around the patio and plant pots - except when he chased another one over my fucking foot and then nearly knocked himself sparko by running headfirst into the shed door. Whilst I was simultaneously untangling my hair from the Rambling Rose I'd stumbled into and trying to not die from a heart attack as a giant garden spider promptly fell out of said Rambling Rose, onto my bare arm and then scrambled up my hair.
I am not phobic of mice nor spiders, but I simply cannot be doing with either of the fuckers touching me, especially when it's solely the doing of the wee furry shit. My heart rate is still probably elevated from the experience now.
Anyhow, I spluttered something to him along the lines of if he didn't deal with the issue properly, he'd find his P45 by his crunchies bowl by teatime.
We now have five corpses laid out on the patio. He thinks he's a fucking genius. I think he's only caught the babies so far - this only stops each year once he murders the big (relatively speaking) one. And then there will be no more Woodmice until next September.
I suppose at least he's trying to contribute to the household.
Anybody else' enjoying' the efforts of their home Verminator this season?
(and yes, I shall validate my post with an image in a minute)