The Discovery That Made My Stomach Drop
We were unpacking and settling back into our routine when my daughter asked if I could help her clean out her closet. I grabbed a garbage bag, rolled up my sleeves, and pulled back the curtain next to her window.
And then I froze.
Wedged between the blinds and the window frame was a thick, compacted mass of brown, fibrous material — like insulation had exploded and then somehow melted into one dusty, disgusting clump.
My first thought?
Oh no… did we get mold?
My second?
Or did a bird squeeze in and build a nest here?
I leaned closer. My daughter leaned closer. And then we both saw them.
Little black dots scattered through the mess.
Not mold.
Not bugs.
Not dirt.
Droppings.
Mouse droppings.
That was the moment everything inside me sank. Because droppings meant activity — not just a passing critter. Something had been living, chewing, climbing, and most likely reproducing inside our walls while we had been sipping lemonade on the beach.
Continue reading on the next page 👇
