My brother came over today to help assess the damage. "Jesus, this black shit is nasty" he said, after finding it on his son WHO NEVER WENT IN THE HOUSE. I swabbed the Heir with GooGone and sighed with relief. It's not just me. I'm crazy, but NOT ABOUT THIS.
He said he'd help me cut plywood and stick it to the floor after taking his kids home. I returned to Home Improvement store to buy sheets and sheets and sheets of plywood.
He managed to help me lay a few sheets on the black shit before getting a call from our grandmother's caretaker. She fell out of her chair and was bleeding. My folks are on vacation, which is why she fell. It's something psychological- when Dad's out of town, she gets panicky. I was on duty last time they went on vacation- except there were TWO grandmothers at the time, and one of them developed the pneumonia that ended up killing her. Let's just say I was glad it was Brother's turn. I don't have the emotional stability for that right now.
Viking Roommate is off doing something sculpture-related, so I'm sitting on my porch with Her Dogness, in a holding pattern. The mere fact that the black shit is covered up, however temporarily, is easing my anxiety about this.
The hummingbird who has a nest on my porch has been buzzing my chair. She is territorial about her porch. Perhaps I will go buy her a feeder- set up a nice little restaurant for her and her kids. Make friends with the crabby lil gal.
Yes. This is a nice plan. I will feed the bird.