My plan today was to go to the commissary. I’ve never been. I’ve never even been on a base that has one. The nearest one is , according to Mapquest, 35 miles away. It’s through LA with unpredictable traffic. Today I had a decent 3 hours in which I could have gone. One hour there, one hour to shop and save, and one hour to return in time to pick up E1 from school.
Today, the ants had other plans for me. They have waged war, and so far they have won all the battles. Soon, their names will be on the deed to this house. I have been battling ants for a month now. “Professionals” have come out twice before today. I was able to schedule an appointment today, during my planned commissary trip, for the “professional” to battle the ants for me.
I don’t know if it’s the lack of rain in the last year, or the heat now, or what the hell the ants want in my house. They trail to the sink from whatever tiny crack they can find... hundreds of the little bastards. I told them that they are free to go to the fish pond out front, or the pool out back if they’re really thirsty, but they won’t listen.
Have I ever mentioned that I have an ant phobia? Hubby has learned not to laugh when I freak out at the sight of a lone ant in the house. I kill it and proceed to bleach anything around. I know that behind that lone ant is an entire ant armada. Until now, my method has always worked. We’ll see if today’s visit was successful. They are crafty little bastards that carry tiny little GPS’s with the coordinates of my kitchen sink programmed with turn-by-turn navigation.
Tomorrow…call the plumber…the laundry room has flooded. At least the plumber is cute.