Scraping in my wall and ceiling,
Scratching for my turf;
’Scaping from the bricks’ unfeeling,
Snatching at my nerves.
Light which ends his tiny tunnel—
Roommate I have yet to greet;
Plight that starts my hefty trouble—
Can’t we never try to meet?
Sneaking in for a brief one after some ratholing of excessive budgets. An aside: What makes a Chinese worker very happy? (A fat pay cheque? Nope.) Answer: That his colleagues are paid less than him. (Still as bafflingly true as on day one to me.) Anyway, the rathole-to-be is a real thing. (Somewhere in here, beneath the blood moonlight, someone’s thinking of me and bugging me tonight.) This rodent roomie has been widening a power duct in my ceiling and wrecking his way towards a power switch (having ruined my optical fibre, twice – smart enough to avoid the 220V, nonetheless). From the sound of it tonight, he’s only a couple feet away from the end of the tunnel. (Handyman is coming in first thing tomorrow morning.)
Talk to y’all later. (Still got chores to do.) Will come back during my holiday later this month. Cheers for now.