I feel like I need some Monty Python bloke to wheel a barrow past my door singing "Bring out yer dead!" Farm house or not, I do not tolerate any creature with neither functional sphincters nor clothes in my pantry. Or on my table or counter top or cupboards or in my silverware drawer - etc . . . . I'm tired of washing everything every day.
And how do they get in the places they do, anyway? Grappling hooks? Tiny helicopters? Little catapults?
The war continues.