We’ve started clearing out the shed (again) with a view to getting everything that we don’t need, want or haven’t used in an absolute dog’s age to the tip and out our lives.
This is in part because the shed becomes a dumping ground for everything we don’t want etc and just gets ridiculously full, and if it’s full you can’t put down a bed for random pregnant cats, and because the shed is falling down and is going to die at some point, so it would be better if that death came when it was empty.
I sorted it out the other day, and this morning we gathered some stuff together to go to the tip tomorrow.
There’s still a lot more to go.
But I’m not sure I want to really experience it too much.
Because I’m fairly sure I’m going to come across something unpleasant on this journey towards the back wall of the shed.
Because it stinks in there.
Something has either died in there, or something is pissing everywhere quite freely.
Either way, it’s very unpleasant. And with each removed bit of stuff, the chance of finding the source of the smell increases.
I mean, ultimately, it has to be me that finds it. Carole will scream and run around and that’s not going to get us anywhere. I will just find it, then gip a little, then remove it, I guess. It’s the family way. I have vivid memories of my father carrying a dead hedgehog from the garage, through the garden, on a shovel – it was little more than a skin bag containing a multitude of maggots. It’s these happy childhood memories that really stick with you.
I suspect we’re in for something similar.
I’ve put the shovel somewhere handy, just in case…