I come home in the evening to my pup and my ants. They are everywhere. Every time I wake up a new swarm has moved to a new location. First it was the corner of my apt by my bed (I slept on my couch that evening), second my kitchen counter, third my desk and inside my computer, and then again on the other side of my kitchen, traveling in that lovely single file line up and down my walls. I spray them with this natural orange spray thing that kills them instantly but the others are not deterred. They say, "Ha ha, Hannah! We will just move a few feet this way. Watch us crawl and scurry around for no palpable reason other than to decorate your very plain walls." It's come to the point where I avoid coming home as much as possible. I actually stay my entire shift because otherwise I'd have to be hanging with the black dots in my peripheral, which I sometimes hope are just the result of some concussion that I could have mysteriously received unbeknownst to myself. But alas, I bring my face closer and the dots are tangible, little creatures. The worst part is the tingly feeling. I don't only feel the tingles at home, the most plausible location for ants to be crawling on my wrists and neck. I also feel them in public, at work, ringing up a customer and scratching my neck, leg, left wrist, right wrist, left ear, right shoulder all while saying "Debit or credit" in an unusually rushed voice. They must think I'm abusing some form of narcotics.
I'm coming to be at a somewhat forged peace with these creatures. I know Padme enjoys them. She was dancing with them on the carpet, hopping around in a frenzy, and after their fox trot she licked them up, aiding me in my quiet elimination of the ubiquitous friends. It's like having relatives over. Yes, a bit corny to compare ants with aunts. But I do not care. I am tired and am trying to believe these ants will leave me soon. Say you have family in from out of town. They will be here for two weeks. Aunt Linda is sleeping in your room with her husband Carl who's not really her husband at all, you come to find out. You would be sleeping on the comfy living room couch, but their son Lester, who ends up telling you you're adopted while you two are playing truth or dare, has claimed that territory. So you sleep in your baby brother's room who cries in the middle of the night and in the early morning, every single time. Linda and Carl are up at dawn making coffee and putting dishes away in the wrong spots. Lester sleeps in till noon every day, even when people are sitting at his feet watching TV. Your parents took time off work and are doing chores around the house. Baby brother's got a knack for covering all of your belongings with jam. But come May 21st, they will be gone. You will get your room back. Baby brother will go back to day care and your parents back to work. And you will resume to being your lazy self in peace and quiet, walking around naked in your kitchen without fear of being seen or talked to or scolded or somehow covered in jam. All will be well.
by the by...Pamde's 16 pounds now
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