Of Rodents, Roof Leaks, and Other September Surprises
- cj91679
- Sep 16
- 3 min read
An account of the peculiar goings-on at Bingley Business Park, as related by a slightly panicked building manager
It was one of those sultry Houston Septembers that starts off pretending to be summer and ends in what can only be described as moist confusion. The air was thick, the HVAC units were making unsettling wheezing noises, and I had just finished writing an email about parking violations when disaster struck.
Or rather, scurried.
The Case of the Ceiling-Dwelling Squirrel
It began with a noise in Suite 204. A curious scratching, followed by a sound not unlike an angry typewriter being kicked down a flight of stairs. Ms. Krenshaw from Human Resources claimed it was “a ghost or possibly Carl from accounting,” but it was, in fact, a squirrel.
Not your run-of-the-mill, backyard-bouncing sort of squirrel, mind you. This one had intent. It had clearly taken up residence in the ceiling tiles, presumably to escape the heat and file an official complaint about the vending machine options.
I dispatched maintenance with a broom and a sense of hope. Neither was successful.
Of Drains and Other Treacheries
No sooner had we negotiated a ceasefire with the squirrel than word came in of a slow-moving plumbing calamity in the west wing lavatories. The pipes, which had loyally done their duty since the Reagan administration, had chosen this exact moment to stage what I can only describe as a small-scale rebellion.
A plumber was called. He arrived, looked grave, and muttered something about “hairline fractures” and “polybutylene betrayal.” I nodded solemnly and resolved to Google both terms later, ideally with a glass of something bracing.
The Mushroom in Conference Room B
And then, of course, came the mushroom.
There it was — sprouting cheerfully from the baseboard in Conference Room B, looking for all the world like it had every right to attend the 10 a.m. strategy session. The marketing team refused to enter the room until it had been “neutralized,” as if it were a spy from a rival company.
We brought in mold specialists, carpet cleaners, and a man named Vince who claimed to be “very intuitive with fungi.”
Parking Lot Politics and Wild Kingdom Lite
Meanwhile, in the parking lot, the drainage grate had vanished, presumably into a subterranean realm of rust and poor decisions. Three orange cones and a handwritten sign reading “NOT A STEP, SERIOUSLY” were deployed. Naturally, someone stepped directly into it within the hour.
There were also reports of raccoons in the dumpster, birds in the lobby, and — disturbingly — an opossum that seemed to have taken up residence behind the electrical panel. I believe we have now reached an agreement with it, involving peanut butter crackers and respectful distance.
The Moral (If One Must Be Drawn)
All this is to say, September in Houston is not the gentle prelude to autumn one might expect. No — for those of us charged with maintaining commercial properties, it is the season of strange leaks, unexpected guests, and plumbing that sighs like an aging dowager whenever flushed.
If you manage buildings, consider this your reminder to:
Inspect ceilings and vents for furry squatters
Have the plumbing looked at by someone with a wrench and a sense of dread
Walk your property with the wariness of a man expecting ambush from below
And, most importantly, never trust a quiet mushroom
Autumn is coming. Best have the roofer and the exterminator on speed dial.
Note: While this story takes a humorous tone, the risks it highlights — from pests and plumbing issues to water damage — are very real for commercial property owners, especially during Houston’s unpredictable fall season. A little proactive maintenance now can prevent costly surprises later. Don’t wait until the squirrel moves in.