Hunting The Muse

So, I have an ant

So, I have an ant problem. Yuck, ants. I know. A long time ago I had this chocolate mix that was stored in a big coffee can. I ended up using that coffee can to store some bulk dried goods. I guess I didn't wash it thoroughly enough because there was some powder left over. I left it out overnight, and it turned out there's an ant nest in my counters somewhere and they had a gay old time.

So the pest control guy came over today. Chatty guy, in his fifties, thick glasses.

"Let's see, what kind of ants do ya have..."

I led him into the kitchen. A few of them were crawling around.

"Ahh, there we are. Yeah, your regular odorous house ants."

And then he squashed one under his thumb, rolled it around between his fingers, and sniffed his fingers.

"Yeah, yep. Have you tried smelling them to find out their signature odor?" He asked this as if he was expecting me to try it out.

"Um, no... I didn't think of that."

Ick. ick, ick, ick. And two nights ago when I discovered the ant problem, I left a message with one property manager before my normal one called me back.

"Yeah, " she said, "when Teri told me they were coming out of the stove, the first thing I said was, 'Well, did you tell him to turn on the stove?'" She paused for my reaction. "Just cook them right up, fix yourself a meal."

"Yuck."

"You didn't want to just turn on the stove and fix yourself some ants?"

"Yuck."

I hate my property manager. I hate ants. I hate people that crush ants between their fingers and then smell their fingers. I hate the thought of cooking and eating ants. Am I really so strange? Why are these other people so strange? Posted by Curt at May 30, 2002 02:05 PM