Before the summer officially arrived, the ants came. First, the BIG, BLACK pick-in-their-afro Carpenter ants showed up on the scene. Their love for water kept them pretty localized in the upstairs bathroom. I have to thank them for showing us the ancient, yet on-going, water damage occurring next to the tub. Now, you'd think they would be coming in from the outside perimeter; but, no! Our next door neighbor, a Snowbird retiree, infiltrated their lines. More specifically-- telephone lines. These mercenaries were climbing a telephone pole ACROSS the street, walking the lines with the agility of an Eastern European circus performer, and barging right in! Clever buggers. It isn't so much that I am afraid of these semi-trucks of the ant family. It's more of a territorial issue. Like the Furies versus the Orphans. Like my old neighbor Troy Cochran used to say, "Thiz izzzz MAH house!" We don't like uninvited guests. Thank god, we're not drinking enough anymore to whip out a gun and start blasting the son of a guns.
Then, one day, they were gone. Moved on the damper fields, I thought. I felt relieved, yet somehow rejected. Soon we discovered Joel the Snowbird had taken matters into his own hands. Unable to burn the pole, Joel got out the old Vemon or Viper or Liquid Death spray and soaked the joint. I had some ethical issues with the mass ant genocide. They were here first, I sighed. We're in trouble when they figure out how to Vemon us. They're just little aliens trying to gather information, build homes, and feed their colonies. What right do we have? Then, I remembered I am not down with imperialism. And, I wondered when Dr. Who was going to show up as the multi-dimensional exterminator. Maybe I'm the Dalek in the ant world. Maybe their Dr. Who will show up one day and dig my spine out of my back like the vein on a cold shrimp. Or maybe I thinking about bugs too much. Yeah, maybe I thinking about smart, conniving bugs too much.
Whheeee! Thank god those ants are gone, huh? But, nooooooooo. On the heels of the Carpenters-- Gee, what if Karen and Richard showed up one day and just started messing with the wooden structure of your house? What if they were too busy to even sing you a song? Music, I'd say, or beat it! So, on the slender ankles of my Karen Carpenter ants came the teeny, tiny, maybe-I'm-a-crumb-maybe-I'm-not brown ants. Maddening! That's how they break you down. First, they're here. Then you spray them with Windex and they break up the party. And, not even a whole day later, they're over there now. They sneak in from crack and crevice. You never knew how many cracks you had until the ants come to town. They squeeze into the spaces even too small for a draft! They like bananas, peanut butter, minuscule splatters of bacon grease, the green cat food kibbles, and apple juice.
Again, this isn't a phobia. Like the screams I hear in my head when I step to close to the edge of a building or cliff. It is more an economical issue. With the price of gas, groceries, and the overhead of raising two growing girls, I can't afford daily handouts to the whole neighborhood. But, I am willing to make a deal. I am willing to treat the whole situation like a mob transaction. I'm willing to offer up a honey glazed ham once a month for a little peace and quiet. Until then, I will fight the losing battle like a store owner battling strong arm tactics only to end up face down on his front stoop. But, every day, I get a little stronger. I can freely squash any little brown ant under my thumb (as long as I hear no crunching) and rub their segmented carcass on my peddle-pushers. Sigh, deflation of chest, strong inhalation through double-wide nostrils, sigh. Where's my cinnamon?
In other insect news, the silverfish population growth seemed like it hit a few months of inactivity. But, now, the youngest of the brood seem to be testing their limits by peeking their little shiny selves out of the shadows. I think, after some mental adjustments, they are silly. And, they remind me of the cover of The Stooges Raw Power. However, they help dust off that schizophrenic part of my brain, too. The bugs are watching me, I whisper in the twilight. They are watching me... waiting... patiently, waiting. Years ago, I read a short story about an obese women, driven to consume by this unceasing hunger-- until pop! She split open and a HUGE larvae slithered out of her bulging belly. Ray Bradbury? Who? Tell me! It's things like these that made it IMPOSSIBLE for me to go to school in Athens, Georgia. Yes, acceptance letter in hand, someone told me about June bugs. And, bugs. And, some more bugs. Heck, pill bugs (rolly-pollies or potato bugs) kinda gross me out. But, like any good parsimonious Scot-Irish-German territorial teeth clencher, start messin' with my home or food and ye shall suffer the wrath!
Hmmm,what else? Contaray to Whiteman's prodding, I am not a Republican. But, yet, I feel I am becoming very conservative in my pre-golden years. Yes, I cry during the Harlan County footage. Yes, the Jungle is scarier than any Koontz novel. But, no, sorry... I don't think unionized G.E. employees need two more weeks of paid vacation. Is the minimum wage a barbed wire fence around the lowest socio-economic classes? Yes. But, do I understand why companies move overseas? Yes, it's called capitalism. When American citizens finally started whining louder, major corporations had to find someone else to exploit. I am convinced small-business owners would jump on that cheap whore if they could; but the government just doesn't make the penicillin as readily available to them yet. They are the medium fish in the big pond trying to decided if they should eat some small fish or have the small fish collect some plankton to sell to the big fish. Or better yet have the small fish collect the plankton and give it to you for a fraction of the price you plan on selling it back to them for. Go, Wal-pond!
Other recent considerations-- my favorite president, James Buchanan. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Buchanan
And, secondly, "Silent Cal" Coolidge. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Calvin_Coolidge
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