After careful deliberation, I've decided upon the pseudonym for my new neighbors.
Madam and Eve told me that during the inspection of Percy's house, the crawl-space was laden with mice. Considering that my house is 15 feet away and I have no problems, I found this hard to believe, so I inquired further. It appears that sometime in the last century, something dug through some insulation and crapped in their crawlspace. No actual mice, dead or alive, were found.
This is my introduction to all-girl households. It appears that they're not merely twice as girly. There's some sort of multiplier effect that makes the girly quotient cascade out of control. For based on this information, Madam and Eve have spent thousands of dollars on exterminators and on digging the earth to the foundation and pest-screening the entire foundation.
"And if we see a mouse," Madam told me, with Eve already nodding her head behind her, "We're calling you over to kill it."
I've never understood why my y-chromosome compels me to slay unwanted creatures, but I've never understood this less than I do now.
"Even if we have to wake you up," Eve added.
I'm now the only straight guy in the world who dreads beginning a story with "So I'm sound asleep when my lesbian neighbors slip in and tap me on the shoulder..."