Life in the foothills near Pasadena, California. When the wind is blowing—or right after a rain—the mountains appear to be etched against the sky with a precision that almost makes them look unreal, they're so beautiful. During the transition seasons from hot to cool, the skies are blue with fluffy white clouds that give a picture-postcard effect, despite the scrubby, desert-like ecosystem in the hills.

Sure is pretty out here.

At the moment my husband is just starting the cold that I got over a week ago. So he can't smell any longer the odor that's seeping up from the basement, or perhaps elsewhere under the house. But we know something is dead down there. At first we thought it might be a mouse, but a mouse would be dessicated by now, its parts carried off by the ants. This guy is a rat.

In between fevers, Attila the Hub managed to find out where the creatures were getting in, and seal it off. But the smell is still there.

I didn't mess around with potpourri: I got concentrated perfume blocks of a piney, Christmas-like scent that's actually quite nice. As I walk around the house I notice the different "scent zones" created by my strategic placement of the little perfume blocks. And the 2-3 places where they don't cover, and something is Present that makes one think either of a severe case of mildew, or a mild case of death.

I'll keep moving the little scent blocks around, and maybe burn a few candles. And I'll hope that our guests on Christmas day also have mild colds.

Yup. Sure is nice, living in these here hills. Seclusion, privacy, dark moonlit nights, a view of the little valley below us . . . and carrion wafting through the heating vents. Very glamorous indeed.

Merry Christmas, everyone. Here's hoping your rats die outside, where the coyotes can get them.

Posted by: Attila at 03:47 AM | Comments (10) | Add Comment
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