I came home from a two-week holiday to find a face mask and yellow note taped to my apartment door.
I rolled my suitcase up to reading distance, perturbed in particular by the face mask. The note was from my daughter.
The “situation” was that pigeons had occupied our living room. I’d left the balcony door open to keep the place aired out and prevent a crushing build up of summer heat (no air conditioning). Carmen hadn’t been home much while I was away.
The day before I got back she discovered that the pigeons had found a way through the “pigeon screen” enclosing the balcony (which came courtesy of former tenants) and made the living room their home, leaving corrosive blobs of excrement everywhere.
Carmen and a friend had scrubbed away all of the pigeon shit but it took a week of shooing, flapping and screeching (and throwing oranges at one particularly alpha pigeon) to stop them from entering the balcony and waddling proprietarily across the threshold into the living room.