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…
In our effort to get out and see new places in our own backyard, the Pigalinas headed to Silverstream for a walk.
We selected a walk – we were to follow the little red symbols on the signposts and set off. The sign warned that the walk was “hard”. We went up hills, down hills – once with the aid of a rope and across two streams (carrying the dog thanks to the presence of toxic algae) and at one point Mr Pigalina feared we would be camping for the night under a blanket of leaves due to the lack of little red symbols and signposts.
We saw the most fantails we have ever seen in one place. I just about lost it at their cuteness and was over the moon to spot an all black one.
There are a number of other trails we intend to explore, but next time we will take a photo of the map!
Animalstrike is the first word that my phone suggests when I type “an”.
No clue why.
Apparently the rhyme isn’t always right as the sunrise this morning indicated rough weather. Dunedin experienced another unusually nice winter’s day while the rest of the island recovers from a storm.
(Though it may be more purpley pink than red).
Pigalinas watching “Her”:
Theodore and surrogate getting it on with Samantha talking in Theodore’s ear. Samantha asks Theodore to look at the surrogate and tell her that he loves her. He can’t do it. Pigalinas assume because she doesn’t look like Theodore imagined Samantha to look.
Mr Pigalina: “It’s like when I first saw the Asterix movie and his voice was all wrong. I’d been reading those comics for years and it came on TV and was not what I was expecting…It’s a big deal.”
And all the grown-ups will say, “But why are the kids crying?” And the kids will say, “Haven’t you heard? Rick is dead! The People’s Poet is dead!” And then one particularly sensitive and articulate teenager will say, “Other kids, do you understand nothing? How can Rick be dead when we still have his poems?”
We’ll always have “Pollution”.
Got home and was not immediately greeted by an excited dog. He was in the garden, devouring a bone that Mr Pigalina’s workmate kindly saved for him.
Even the rain didn’t stop him.
He is pictured here, inside, posing for his thank you pxt.