|Cute to look at, not cute to live with. |
Not cute at all.
However, I can't get too excited because it turns out his buddy (let's call him Trevor) has been living in the ceiling of the back shed for a while and, now that Mr Poss has moved out from under the bath, Trevor has decided that our roof makes a fantastic race track.
So last night (actually, this morning. 3am to be exact.) Trevor decided to do a few laps - you know, to test his speed, burn off a few kilojoules, mark his turf - the usual possum hijinx. For 2 hours.
Not fun. Not fun at all.
Even less fun when the sound of four possum paws on a tin roof are amplified by 11ft ceilings and timber floors. What are the chances of such perfect accoustics? In our house, pretty damn high!
So right about now, having made it through the day with a very unattractive eye-twitch, a glassy-eyed stare and wearing enough make-up to cover the dark circles under said eyes to make any corpse look life-like, I'm done. How I managed to drive home without having (or causing) an accident is beyond me.
So on that note, I'm off for a quick kip. Surely the world will seem a whole lot better place in 45 mins......
And if that Trevor makes a racket tonight......he might just find himself evicted!