Hi.
Been a while, eh?
I know.
And like the tens of you that might still be out there reading , we've had a pretty busy time of it lately.
I'm not sure where to start. Awkward, right? It's like kissing an old boyfriend again anticipating that he'll taste the way you remember only to find out he's switched from cherry Chapstick to Carmex. Not bad, necessarily, just different.
I haven't had the same pull to write these days because I've entered into one of those phases where everything seems to be painted with a thick coat of stress and it's all that I can do to just manage. On good days, I feel like I am hanging on to my sanity with a piece of fraying dental floss. On bad days, I'm prone underneath my desk chugging antacid medicine straight from the bottle.
I wish I were kidding.
Back in mid May, I woke up one morning to find several ants on a fruit bowl perched on our kitchen hutch. I hate insects. All of them.
Creepy, crawling, scavenging bastards.
Anyway, I was grossed out and frantically killed every last one that my presbyopic eyes could see. I complained about the near constant crumbs on the floor. I pointed them out to my children and shrieked, "THIS IS WHY YOU MUST NEVER TAKE FOOD UPSTAIRS! THIS IS WHY WE HAVE ANTS!"
They sat in their chairs, cereal spoons poised mid-bite. They blinked, looked at each other, looked at me and in unison, they nodded their understanding. Then, they bent back over and continued eating. Later, I heard them whispering to each other which had me all paranoid for a second until it dawned on me that I had inadvertently spawned a bonding moment between them with my crazy. Points for me!
Two days later, I was relieved to see that there were no further issues with ants on the hutch. Then I turned on the rest of the lights and all that happiness evaporated when I saw hundreds of them swarming over every other flat surface in the kitchen. They were climbing up the walls, under the cabinets, in the cabinets, on the peanut butter jar, around the bottom of the fridge, in the tupperware, across the stove and inside the sealed cake box which held the remains of my son's $36.99 birthday cake.
Lots and lots of them.
I lost my everloving mind.
In the span of ten seconds or so, I went from a calm and rational mother to Rambo. Pest control was called and after spraying gobs of poisonous, environmentally disgraceful badness all over the house, he told us to be patient and let the ants run their course.
"How long?"I asked. "About three days," he replied.
Liar.
At the three day mark, they had quadrupled in numbers. I sent Dallas out for ant traps and we placed these in every conceivable nook and cranny. Every morning when we'd walk into the kitchen, Dallas would remark that there seemed to be fewer ants. I'd snort and point out the line of them doing the Cha Cha across the counter top. I no longer had any composure. It had been over a week. Cupboards were bleach clean. All food had been moved to air tight containers. We ate standing over the sink and garbage bin. We vacuumed, compulsively.
And still they came. Thousands of them.
I was told to be patient and let them carry the poison back to the queen.
"When is that bitch going to die?" I keened.
We left for Indianapolis the Memorial Day weekend, which turned out to be a real blessing. Besides having a great time, it took my mind off the battle of the kitchen and when we got home four days later, a miracle had occurred.
The ants were gone.
Dead actually.
Thousands of small black carcasses were littered from one side of the kitchen to the other. Some had drowned in the ant bait. Some were still alive but clearly struggling and I felt nothing but pure, unadulterated, JOY at all that carnage. Dead, dead, dead. La la la. Wheee.....I even made up a little song to myself as I vacuumed them up but it's not very nice and laced with expletives so I'll probably just keep it to myself.
I know. Sick, right?
I wouldn't make a very good Buddhist.
But I do believe in karma to a certain extent so a week later, when my husband, who contributes significantly to our household income, RESIGNED FROM HIS JOB, I couldn't help but think back to the ant war and wonder if I should have been just the tiniest bit more compassionate.
