Since I moved into this house I have been told on several occasions that the area under the roof is infested by wild ferrets. "Wild ferrets in Japan?" I asked. "Wild ferrets?" I have been assuming that it was a polite way to say, "Big f'ing rats." "No, no. These are in addition to the rats." I was assured. Later, a British guy, who doesn't live in our house confirmed that there were creatures there but that they were "itachi" a Japanese weasel. He said you could tell they weren't rats by the way that they "bound." I have been researching this weasel and the can't find any sitings of them living in houses. I do know that they eat rats however. In any case, after I had tried to sleep through the Fulbright scholar next door having relations with her Japanese, convenience store working boyfriend, I heard a rumbling and screeching up on the roof. A banging like something was about to come crashing through the ceiling. There was a kind of wailing and capering about. I would guess that they were angry squirrels, but we don't see too many squirrels, angry or otherwise, in Japan.
Today I researched how to rid animals from your crawlspace. It was universally agreed that the first step was figuring out how they were getting in. If you saw my house you would be laughing along with me. In this house, the distinction between "in" and "out" loses any real meaning that it might have had. It is that elusive "ambiguity" that all fruity books about Japanese architecture talk up. That "ambiguous" line between living in a rich enough country to be able to seal up your house or being fucking poor. So deliciously ambiguous. Let us bask in it for a moment.
I am contemplating a platform to sleep on so that when the "weasel" finally crashes through the ceiling it has a clear path to the door or window without running across my sleeping body.