The Ant Trilogy- Part II
Luckily the ants that were residing in our garage have been gone for a few weeks now and have not returned; except for one minor detail. They must have been really liked our house because they mentioned it to all their other insect friends and it has become THE RESORT to go for the summer. Kinda like that time back in the 90’s when all the college kids decided to start going to Cancun for spring break and now that’s what EVERYONE does. All the cool bugs are going there. Ants, Beetles…I wouldn’t be surprised to come home and find an entomologist crawling around my house. The carpenter ants we had in the garage even convinced some pharaoh ants to buy a timeshare in my KITCHEN this week.
See, we have this cat. His name is ninja and I keep his food bowl in the kitchen. And I bent down on Saturday morning to pick it up so I could clean underneath it (I’m not one of the lazy kids who just mops around things, mom). Except when I picked it up, I noticed hundreds and hundreds of tiny, super small little ants crawling all over the food dish and eating the cat food. Because that is what we serve at THE RESORT. USDA certified, grade A Cat food. These ants were the size of a pencil tip at most and they were everywhere on that food dish…and there was a nice trail…right back to the wall leading outside.
Immediately I raised my fist to the sky and cursed myself for canceling that exterminator.
With all the fist pumping, everyone in the house came running to see what was going on; can’t have a crisis without the whole family. Of course the toddler tried to cram herself between my legs so she could get a better view, and in doing plastered herself to the wall and floor where all the ants were crawling. LISTEN LADY, how about for 5 seconds your ADD kicks in and you go stare at that shiny object while mommy tries to vacuum the hundreds of ants crawling on the kitchen floor. K. Thx.
Instinctively, the cat’s food and water dish went immediately into the garbage because I will not wash things that have live insects crawling on them. It’s just one of my pet peeves. Ya know…like don’t re-wear your underwear, peeing in the shower is only allowed when showering alone (kidding), don’t wash items that have live insects. Simple really. I’d rather spend the five bucks and buy new bowls.
We vacuumed all the ants and sprayed vinegar and water to try and diffuse them. Between the two of us we then spent at least the next hour calling exterminators trying to see if someone was available to come that day. FAIL. Being that it was nearly 2pm on Saturday, most of the companies were closed, booked, or could only make appointments for Monday. Meaning I would have to suffer through 2 more days of THE RESORT. Go get your sex on somewhere other than my kitchen!!!!
We had no luck in getting any exterminator to come to the house and take care of our infestation on Saturday. Though we were able to speak with one ultimately, unhelpful pest control agent. He informed us that for the past two weeks we have been having a heat wave (NO SHIT SHERLOCK) and it drives the ants to look for food and water sources outside their natural environment; like inside my kitchen; where I cook my family’s food; where my kid crawls around and plays; where my cat eats. And where I walk barefoot and expect not to step on crunchy little insects. Nothing has occurred in my house the last couple weeks except to have an air conditioning unit run nonstop as I DETEST the heat and humidity. Even more than I detest clowns. Put it this way… I would be willing to sit through a lap dance given by a clown if it meant I could be in air conditioning. Since the A/C has been on constantly the ants thought they would be able to find a cool spot to look for food and water. AWESOME.
As for the ants….I guess that’s for the last part of the trilogy.
The Ant Trilogy- Part I
In early April, my husband and I decided that we were going to put in an Italian garage. AND WHAT IS THAT YOU MIGHT ASK??? See…first you must understand Italian culture to understand the need for an Italian garage. Reason number one for the Italian garage is that most Italians are fair skinned, so staying in the sun too long is not a good option for us. Translated…we will look like a flaming Olympic torch. Reason number two is that we like to sit, eat, and kibitz (this often turns into yelling). Very rarely do we partake in physical activity; unless you count the occasional round of bocce or the obsessive need to clean the house 12 times a day.
Now that this is cleared up…Italians actually convert the garage to a living space. They lay down the ugly green indoor/outdoor carpet that looks like grass; the kind that sends you reeling back to the days of the Brady Bunch where Marsha was screaming “my nose, my nose”. Screens go up on the garage doors so that a cross breeze can go through.
Creating this garage was necessary because 1) I’m a pasty white noodle and 2) I like to sit, eat, and talk but strongly protest any and all physical activity unless it involves obsessive cleaning. Mr. Clean ain’t got shit on me. Normally, Italian garages contain an entire dining room and living room set. We decided to be a little more practical; be it that we have a toddler who can bench press her body weight and turn ours into more of a toy room. Don’t worry though; I did still sneak a patio table in so we can dine out there (no plastic fruit though).
In all, it took a weekend to put it together. My daughter loves to play out there. It’s a great place to relax and let her enjoy outside, but keep her out of the blazing sun because, like me, she’s a white noodle. We have a great breeze that goes through and the screens serve out Operation Contain Child.
Things were going along just swimmingly with the garage for about two months until one weekend in May. Listen Lady, Ant apocalypse had hit. I was going out to water my garden when I collided with a wall of ants that were covering the back door of the garage. They had exploded in one night; from nothing to crawling all over a quarter of the garage and up the walls. There were even winged ants that were flying all over the garage like little suicide bombers. Mind you, it was 7:30 am on a Saturday so this was not the most pleasant of experiences to wake up too.
I called Brett so he could help me clean up this lovely ant disaster. We used the wet/dry vac and sucked up all the ants we could. In the process we noticed that there were some holes in the foundation of the garage where the ants were just pouring out of. It was almost baffling to see them try to escape towards me, instead of retreating inward. Haven’t you learned anything from watching war movies!!!!! Whatever dude. Choose the vacuum or the ant spray.
After a solid hour of hovering, cleaning toys, and shifting through sand we thought we were ant free. We had sprayed hoards of ant spray all over the inside and outside of the garage. Until the next morning; when we did the same thing all over again. This time, we took foam in a can and filled the holes in the foundation. Sprayed the garage and the foundation again. Vacuumed again. Cleaned all the toys. AGAIN. No more ants.
UNTIL THE NEXT MORNING;WHEN THE ANTS WERE STILL ALIVE AND CRAWLING ALL OVER THE GARAGE AGAIN. I was ready to go for the atom bomb for ants at this point. Clearly we had a nest and the queen ant was having her way with me. I would SO pull her hair if we were in a fight. Since I had to go to work, I did not have time to clean and vacuum, so I just sprayed the devil ants and walked out of the garage screaming like a crazy woman. I believe it was something to the effect of “devil be gone, I’m calling in the big guns now boys”. The elderly neighbor that rides his bike around may have given me a strange look and then flashed me his dentures. Sexy.
We were running on Day 3 of Ant apocalypse and clearly our methods were not working. I made an appointment with an exterminator to have to the ants sprayed the next afternoon.
Day 4 of the Ant apocalypse had arrived. The exterminator was scheduled to arrive at 2:00 pm. I woke in the morning and went to view the overnight damage to the garage. But alas…..not a single ant could be found in our lovely Italian garage, full of clean toddler toys. WHAT?!? Had I won? Did I defeat the queen? Was this a mind game she was playing with me after my threat?
I ended up canceling the exterminator for that day. And by golly was that a mistake….
Eye can see clearly now
Proof that I lack common sense:
6:30 am- Snooze alarm
6:45 am- FINE. I’ll get up already
6:46 am- Put on jeans and a semi decent t-shirt. Meaning I can’t wear the t-shirt that shows a toaster saying “I want you inside me” to the piece of toast
6:50 am- Pee. Wash face. Comb Hair. Brush teeth. Put in Contacts. Slap Hubby in the butt for good measure.
6:57 am- Wake up kid. Change a diaper full of wiz. Dress her in clothes that appear to match. Good enough.
7:17 am-Lock house and leave for the day
7:30 am- Drop off kid at mom’s house. Accept slimy kiss and a half-ass wave as my farewell. Maybe someday she’ll miss me?
8:15 am- Arrive at work after 30 minutes of traffic and construction.
9:30 am- Attend meeting
10:16 am- Note that while I’m staring at my computer my eyes seem slightly blurry. Huh. Chalk it up to tiredness.
12:07 pm- Call mom. Check on kid. No puke so far today. Success. Still no talking. Fail.
1:15 pm- Eyes are still really blurry. What the hell. Give eyes good rub down. Helps a little.
2:30 pm-IM hubby that my eyes are really blurry. Can’t figure out why. Starting to get bothersome.
3:00 pm- READ THAT AGAIN. 3 pm. That’s nearly 9 hours after I put contacts in that I finally figured out that I put them in the wrong eyes and they have been that way ALL DAY LONG.
N-I-N-E –H-O-U-R-S.
I drove all the way to work like that.
Listen lady, you would think something would have tipped me off.
Ultimate Fail
Just eat the carrot
Parmesan encrusted chicken, garlic mashed potatoes, and a melody of mixed veggies. This was our dinner the other night. Mind you, I cooked the whole thing myself. I can be very Betty Crocker when I want and, according to my husband, I’m not half bad. The chicken was taking a little longer to cook than expected, so we fed my daughter first because she was getting antsy. And by antsy, I mean she started opening all my kitchen cabinets and helping herself to bake ware, serving platters, and strainers. Lately she’s taken to pulling out all the kitchen hand towels and blowing her nose on each one before casually chucking it on the floor with a small grin on her face.
Once my husband and I sat down to eat the munchkin had finished so we pulled out some toys, books, and Jerry the jester we keep stored away in the closet under the stairs. Shhh….don’t tell ICE. None of this was amusing to her and her only desire was to sit on my lap while I ate. I relinquished and gave in. No problem. I can cut chicken one handed; I’ll use the laser beams that come out of my eyes. Cause I’m an f’in superhero. I also crap gold bricks.
Obviously my plate of food looked mighty enticing to her grubby little fingers. So enticing that he digits roamed through my veggies and pranced along my chicken. She’s a big fan of corn, so she stared picking that out and was eating that as she sat with me. Fine, I CAN COMPROMISE, you eat the corn, I’ll eat the rest of the food. Just avoid the laser beams. Except that one time, at band camp, when she picked up a carrot and her daddy said “oh, Cardin, just eat the carrot” while I had a mouthful of chicken and before I could scream “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO” she had gagged and was puking on me.
Brett denies that this is his fault. Let’s review:
1) Child had just eaten.
2) Child has extremely sensitive gag reflex
3) Child was sitting on me with no bib
4) Brett instructed child to eat a large sized carrot
I’ll let you decide Internet.
$2.67 a month
I harp and harass my parents quite often; it’s my duty in life. I had every opportunity to be a fancy lawyer or a well educated doctor. Instead, I took the road less traveled and decided to be a thorn that forever looms in their presence; even this blog is a source of heart burn for them when I use it as an outlet to taunt. Oh how my wicked words will torment.
Through all my trickery, I commend and praise them for teaching me how to manage my money. Yes, there is the occasional impulse buy, like that 56 inch flat screen LCD TV that is in the back of my Truck that I’ve neglected to tell my husband about (maybe if he reads my blog I’d be more inclined to go buy that TV, this will be a test to see if he is actually reading). For the most part, I’m very conservative with my money. I attribute most of this to my father who has always been very contentious of his money and imparted this trait to me.
My husband and I have a good savings account and we’ve been smart enough to put some money away into certificates so that the interest can grow on the money. Recently, one of our certificates that we have had in the bank for the past 17 months is maturing. Today we spent the morning figuring out how much we had made in interest over the past 17 months. It was as if I was a cartoon character and my eyes had dollars signs in them….until we figured out that we’d only made a whopping $45 bucks and some measly change. Like a gangsta I tell ya.
Now yea….$45 is better than nothing. Better in my pocket than in yours, internet. But what happens when we break it down so we have a more reasonable figure. I just piled away a bunch of money that I had no access to for 17 months so that bank could lend it out to someone else and, in return, each month I got $2.67 for my investment. WTF. Listen lady, I could have found that in change in the mall parking lot if I looked hard enough. I could have sat on the side of the street with an “I’m homeless” sign for 1 day and made $2.67.
I’m pretty sure we got screwed over on this deal. I’m off to the mall parking lot to find me some change.