I got home and pottered about, put the junk mail in the recycling and then noticed this (pictured below) sitting on the other bin lid.
What?! I don’t recognize that, how strange. Seeds? Poppy seeds.
Someone had obviously been in the house. Thank goodness I read the article 23 creepy unsolved mysteries nobody can explain just yesterday!
Nothing was out of place, nothing had been stolen. Mr Pigalina hadn’t seen the bag before. There had to be someone hiding either under the bed, in a cupboard or in the attic. Someone into poppy seed, therefore opium, therefore heroin. A heroin addict was hiding in my house.
Mr P checked the roof space with a torch then, logical as he is, asked what we had done since last night “Did we get any mail?”. Light bulb moment! The mail I put in the recycling had had a poppy on it! I pulled it out and sure enough the real estate agent who sent it had gifted us some poppy seeds to commemorate ANZAC Day. They had slipped out of the letter unnoticed to sit menacingly on the bin and freak me out.
I’d been about ready to contact Police…
Pigalina's Palace 