Remember that song? Sure you do. Is it in your head? You’re welcome!
So things have been rolling along around here, fairly routine. Full-time job, part-time job, two children home from school and then off again, a third child who is, as her cell phone voice mail at one point advised us, “out living her life.” House guests, including a mighty swarm of ants which lingered, stuck at first to the “syrupy” bait the pest control people leave with us each time they visit, and then later branching off as they refused to surrender to the power that is Terro. Or syrup. By the way, if you are not from around here, the word “syrupy” can be tricky to decipher when uttered by someone who is. I was rather gleeful that it seemed like a new ant poison called SirPee (accent on sir, please) had come on the market. Sadly, no. Just another misinterpretation by me, who is “not from around here.” I have found myself lately laying on my “Philadelphia” more heavily than usual. I think it is a knee-jerk pushback against the inevitable encroachment of all things Southern. At any rate, all ants are officially dead. Today the pest control man, who seemed higher ranking than all others before him, advised me that if I wanted to, I could take a summer stroll outside to view for myself the ants “shaking and shaking” as the poison “got to their nervous system.” Yeah..no. I want them dead, but I don’t need details or to witness the killing. Thanks, though, Sean the Pest Control Overlord. Just a guess: Did you set fires, bother small animals, and wet the bed as a small child? (Kidding. He was only creepy as it related to the confines of his role as Ant Killer.)
We have been tooling around for the last few days in a lovely new Ford Escape which is tricked out with all sorts of luxuries. That would be really cool except that the reason we are doing this is because a tractor trailer tore off the back of my little white car as it was minding its own business, parked at a gas station. I went to visit it later that same afternoon. It was not pretty. My loud laments even caused the body shop bulldog to run out and see what sort of threat I posed. I guess the car will be fixed sometime this week, poor thing. It had to be towed off on a flatbed trailer. Thank God I was not there to witness the carnage.
I suppose with that, I must be off to work on my part-time job. I am covering for my boss this week, so my schedule is a bit strange. Next week things should get back to normal for a little while, and in the meanwhile I will try to put myself in the frame of mind for a Life with the Neighbors installment. I have been having a lot of bad dreams lately, although not about that, so I am hesitant to push my luck, but I am just on the very edge of the super good parts, so it should be fun, if also traumatizing. Until then, avoid parking your little white car at gas stations…