We had varmits

Last night our neighbors came over to use our shower because they are having some work done on their bathroom.  This reminded me of the time I sent a plumber to a mental institution.  He’s probably okay but here’s what happened.
Part 1:
We lived in a duplex that had a pier and beam foundation like most older houses in Austin, and my partner at the time was out of town.  We had noticed that there was a spot on the bathroom floor next to the tub that was softer than the rest of floor so we put in a call to the landlord, who was also out of town.  Of course, because it was the weekend and no one was around, I put my foot through the floor, making a good sized hole.  I covered the hole with a towel so the cat would stop using it as her personal escape tunnel but she was smarter than me so I just shut the door and went back to the Internet.  Pretty soon I heard noises in there and thought, “Crap, the cat is in there again.”  I opened the door expecting to yell at the cat only to confront a raccoon crawling into my bathroom.  Oh hell no, this won’t work for me.  I ran next door and told the landlord’s wife, who was duly horrified and called a plumber the next day.
Part 2:
The plumber arrived and I showed him the hole and also told him about a smell that was probably a dead mouse or something, but it had been getting worse.  He went outside and I went back to the Internet.  I saw him crawl under the house underneath where I was sitting and while I was thanking God for not making me a plumber, I heard a shriek and saw him crawling back out in a full-on panic.  Great, I thought there must be a body or something but no, apparently the washing machine was just open at that end and had been draining water under the house long enough for a maggot pit to form and that was what the smell was.
At least raccoons are cute.

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The devil is in the details.

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