I returned home after a weekend escape to find uninvited guests of the less than desirable sort. It's not as if I didn't know they might show up. There had been some signs that they might be on the way. Just before I left on my weekend adventure, I saw evidence of their eminent arrival but I chose to set those thoughts aside in hopes of enjoying what may be one of my last getaways for quite some time. I knew the visit was going to cost me... plenty. These are the kind of guests that show up bent on creating a massive nuisance with their determination suck every morsel of your existence into little piles of dung...
It all started a couple of weeks ago when I discovered a few tiny little black specks on the ceramic tile in my bathroom. I simply cleaned them up and doused the cats with a toxic flea killing substance thinking the problem was resolved.
A week later I discovered a little mound of mud in the corner of my bathroom. My first thought was, what a talented cat I have. Further sniffling research however indicated there was no odiferous scent and the root cause of it was coming from the walls.
You probably guessed by now that I found a pile of wings in the corner by the time I got home from the weekend. That and plenty of little wingless ants encircling my toilet. UGH.
OK, so now we deal with it and here is where it helps to keep a sense of humor. Little J heard my screams of intolerance at these guests and rushed in to see the cause of the disturbance. "What are those things Grandma?" he asked as he closely observed the squirmy little pests.
Trying to keep it light I suggested that we maybe have some new little pets to take care of. As a typical seven year old who wants to save every living thing that comes his way, he asks, "what do they eat?"
I told him they have a big appetite for wood and judging from the number of them, my bathroom was likely to fall off the side of the house (ok so that's not keeping it light but I was starting to feel desperation). Little J told me to wait right there because he knew just how to help. A few moments later he returned with a piece of his wooden train tracks... "it's ok grandma, I don't need these tracks anymore, they can eat them instead of the house."
If only life could be so simple. Yes, I have called the hit men.
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