Mood: The Wallace and Gromit Theme by Julian Nott
There is an insidious force, a force that grows and burrows beneath us and in our walls and under the floorboards; it creeps along our floors and up our walls; it invades our personal space while we sleep; it crawls up our legs, seeking warmth, it invades our ears, seeking dark; it can be very tiny or as long as your big toenail…
Yeah, I’m A Bit Bugged
Five years ago I moved to a quaint little apartment in Hickory, North Carolina. Little did I know at the time that I moved in with some thousands of little roommates. They were very tiny, perhaps 3-4mm in length, and traveled in neat little lines, following a pheromone trail. To start with, I found them coming out of the electrical sockets plate on the kitchen counter on an outside wall to the apartment. I put a an ant trap there and sprayed down the trail with disinfectant. The trap filled up and I put another one there. It filled up, as well. They seemed to get the picture and stopped.
For a week.
This time, an even more intricate pheromone trail sowed up across the small kitchen by the stovetop. The battle began anew. More aggressive measure were employed, as the landlord dragged its collective feet in getting an exterminator out (I could’ve got one, but just for my apartment, which would do nothing if the whole wing of the complex was likely infested). At any rate, for a small time these efforts worked a treat.
Then I moved to my new digs, The Bradicombs. About 12 miles away from the Anthouse. A new build. Sweet relief!
‘A Bit Bugged, The Revenge. With The Muscle!
It took five years for the to find me! Big fuckers, too, those thumb-to-big toenail sized ones; those little shits held a grudge and it took five years for their big, beefy cousins to find me! To begin with, I just noticed a few of them here and there. I crushed them; I cook a lot and did not wish to have any of them introduce themselves into my cooking! Then there were even more, tens of them a day! Finally found a spot they were coming in, through the bottom of the wainscoting in the kitchen. Fuckers…
Almost in the middle of that pic, closer to the middle, black trap is where they were coming in from. Killed hundreds of them before they stopped coming in. From there…
Got an exterminator in line to come out and do an inside-outside job, but could not corral my cats in time, so had to reschedule…until there is no rain in the forecast. So we wait.
Still waiting….
Formicidae Follies
For the nonce, I smash any ant I see. The traps seem to be working, as they are the kind that allow the ants to take the poison back to the nest, and there have been more ant carcasses on the floor than the bottom of my shoe or sock or slipper can account for. I am sweeping the floors at least every third day to keep ahead of the ant Armageddon.
I am ‘training’ the cats to enjoy cage time by making them fat(ter) with treats thrown in the cages, hopefully getting them used to being there while I am close, so when the time comes again, I can get them upstairs and out of the Bradicombs until the ‘Combs are done getting the fucking formicidae to fuck off. The upstairs will be done at another time.
Epilogue
Well, there isn’t any, yet. I will keep killing the fuckers and smoke a cigar along with enjoying a glass of Monkey Shoulder with ice and do some writing. And sweeping…
Be well and free from infestation!
