A place to indulge my narcissism... and write stuff...

Honey, You’re Killing Me!

“Dad, we need an exterminator” Megan shouted out from the kitchen. I walked in with an attitude, intent on conducting a complete forensic investigation prior to paying someone to spray generic bug spray. More specifically, in our case, ant spray. The ant invasion had begun. It seems every spring, these freakin ants get off the plane from Florida and head right to my kitchen. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a good cook and they know they can get a good meal here, but jeez, call ahead, willya? Megan and I have held intense strategy sessions (she’d say I just yell at her) about keeping the kitchen spotless so there’s no food sources to attract the little bast… um, guys. Megan had washed the floor and i had thoroughly cleaned all countertops. The place was clean, but still, I would not have eaten off the floor. In spite of our efforts…ants. I opened up our cupboards (how come that’s pronounced “cubbords”and not “cup-boards?”) to see if some package was open and providing the food source I wanted eliminated. I found this.

Yes, it’s shocking, but combating illegal ant immigration is a dangerous and sometimes scary vocation, and it’s not always pretty. Just consider this a free, “keepin it real,” good housekeeping tip from fifteenkey.com.

1 Comment

  1. Blogger User

    To keep your metrosexual mind focused on where it’s been over the past few years – art, cleanliness, home decoration, etc – it pleases me to inform you that the presence of ants has absolutely nothing to do with one’s obsessions or talents in regard to keeping a clean kitchen. They’re just part of life.

    jc

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