The saga continues
So, that dark little rectangle cut into the wall outside of my office is where my furry little friend went to die.
He’s now been extracted and removed from the premises.
But the memory (and the stink) lingers. I’ve got everything open and a big arse industrial fan hammering away inside. Hoping I can get back to work in there tomorrow.
I’m very impressed by the matching coloured socks. This is an attention to detail, fashionwise, that is not always present when you have to get a real man in to deal with a home issue.
That's a very small and specific hole in the wall. How did they know where it was?