More scary things in the attic

These things only happen when my Patient Husband isn’t around and I have to solve them myself. Because, you know, I’m arguably an adult who owns her own flashlight and her own baseball bat.

And as it was, I also had to deal with a yellow jacket nest on the deck that attacked me for walking around. Aggressive little jerks — because while I’m normally “live and let live,” they weren’t, so I didn’t let them live. They’d put a hive beneath a patio chair, and there were probably 20 living there.

Anyhow, the first night after I went into the attic, I thought things sounded quieter, and I felt bad for having killed some mice. But the sound returned, and I began hunting.

I could hear it most often while praying, so I prayed in different parts of the room. I isolated the sound to one corner, but when I stood on things to get higher, the sound would stop. If I put my ear to the wall, again, it lessened. To me that says mammals or crickets. It still didn’t sound like ants. I googled “What’s living in my wall” hoping for a flow chart, but no luck.

When it comes to animals, I trust my cats. The cats don’t care about carpenter ant sounds, but when they’ve heard mice in the walls, they wait. They watch. And a couple of weeks before, both cats had sat on my bed, necks craned to the ceiling. Watching. Watching.

Granted, that’s not as scary as the time my mother and I were reading quietly in the living room and all three cats ran (one – two – three) into the room and stared right at the TV. Which was turned off. Believe it or not, we didn’t get right into our cars and drive until we ran out of gas, then spend the night shivering in the back seat. In fact, we lived there several more years. But it was still unsettling.

The cats had heard something, so I didn’t want to ignore it any longer. I sent Kiddo3 outside (without his laser gun) to watch the outside wall of the house, and I pounded on the inside. “Anything fly out?”

He called back, “No, nothing! Just some bugs.”

We changed places. He pounded on the walls. I saw nothing.

The sounds continued. Louder.

Finally I broke down and called the Hired Killer. The Hired Killer has acted as my assassin since pretty much the year we moved in. Earlier this year he filled my bedroom wall with holes and then filled the holes with so much gas it poured out the electrical outlets, thus silencing the ants with their hairy snap-crackle-pop feet as they marched through my wood.

Normally he can get here in a week, so when I could stand it no more, I spoke to the Hired Killer’s Hired Phone Operative.

Me: Something’s living in my wall. I want it dead.

Operative: What does it sound like?

Me: Random tapping. But I don’t have X-ray vision, so I was wondering if you could send over your guy who does.

Operative: I know what they are. I’ll have someone there tomorrow.

Me: Tomorrow?

Operative: Yes, tomorrow.

Me: It’s that bad? What is it?

{To be continued again}