Bring out ya dead

Over a month ago, we started hearing scratching sounds coming from the attic. Isn't that how most horror stories begin? And they never end well for the occupants of the house.

So anyhoo, we heard scratching that was shortly followed by squeaking. Mouse? Squirrels? Raccoons? Lord only knows since you can't access the old original house's attic. Unless you're a rodent or small woodlands creature, of course.

We first heard it in the ceiling. Next it moved to the column that holds up the ceiling over our large kitchen island. Then it was over in the wall behind the built-in banquette that bordered on the former 1953 one car garage that now leads to my exercise room from the 1990s master bedroom extension. Got that?

The husband had this bright idea to crawl up into the extension attic we can access in order to throw out some yummy critter poison pellets. I was told this with the surety that the poison would make our attic dwellers thirsty and they'd go out in search of water and expire elsewhere. Which of course was wishful thinking. They probably dragged themselves to our pool or fountain for a big drink, then struggled back to the attic to await death. So inconsiderate!

Sure enough, about a week later we started smelling the carcass. We still don't know what died up there. Or in the walls. But whatever it is, it emitted this gosh awful stench that had our main living areas looking like we were heavy into the occult and conducting a seance with all the burning candles. 

We have finally moved past the stinky part. In the past couple days, I've killed about twenty freakishly huge flies. So large I thought they were horseflies. Maybe the chorkie was in danger of being carried off by one of them. For reals. When I saw the first couple flies on Sunday, I thought to myself wow, where did these monster flies come from. It dawned on me the next day when I killed a dozen of them buzzing around in our windows that they must have come from the carcass in the attic. They were obviously very well fed. Which just grosses me out.

I figure I've killed about 30 flies now. So far I've only seen one today and it got away before I could wield my trusty fly swatter. I've now threatened the husband that I'll move up to the lake house unless he calls out the critter evictor folks to plug up all of the possible attic access points. I'll keep y'all posted if my address is changing!