Ants
by Maryanne Frederick
by Maryanne Frederick
It was a perfect moment of mother-son bonding time. My teenager was lying on one side of the L-shaped couch, and I on the other, watching our favorite TV series. The ceiling fan was blowing, and I brushed off a hair that landed on my arm. Just as the good part was tying all the ends together, I grabbed a piece of chocolate from the big bowl we use to hold the wrapped miniatures. Wiping another hair from my face, I began to open the Almond Joy with my teeth when I felt something crawl across my lip. Spitting, standing and screaming simultaneously had little effect on my supine son.
“Awk! Turn on the light! Awk! Awk!” I screamed helplessly. After pausing the movie, he slowly got up and turned on the light. I looked over on the couch and saw the very spot where I had been laying was infested by ants. I hadn’t been brushing off hairs- those were ants that had been crawling all over me!
I stomped my feet and clawed at my bare skin hopelessly trying to rid myself of the feeling of crawling things over me. As I looked over, the ants were moving in a dizzying pattern over the couch cushions and in the candy bowl. They had not yet regrouped into a straight line to go wherever they would go. I leaned down and looked under the couch only to see the culprit- two dinner plates and one-half eaten pie plate resting comfortably on the floor.
“So what did you do then?” my co-workers asked when I did the retelling at work.
“Well, let’s just say, Logan Jackson heard his middle name far into the night as he moved the couch, vacuumed it and the floor, did the dishes, and bug sprayed the room!” I said vehemently. “It was horrible! I still feel as if I have bugs on me!”
“I heard if you use orange peels you can get rid of ants naturally, without chemicals,” said Beatrice, the office vegan.
“I heard the stuff you used is only good for roaches, not ants,” said my boss, “Do you have roaches?”
“No! Of course not!”
“Did you look to see if they were there this morning? My brother-in-law is an exterminator. He can come out monthly…” said another.
It is a funny thing- offices; sometimes you want to share your life, and sometimes you wish you hadn’t. I work in an office and regularly interact with the people in the warehouse filling orders. Soon, they had me telling the ant-on-the-lip story as well.
“Awk! Turn on the light! Awk! Awk!” I screamed helplessly. After pausing the movie, he slowly got up and turned on the light. I looked over on the couch and saw the very spot where I had been laying was infested by ants. I hadn’t been brushing off hairs- those were ants that had been crawling all over me!
I stomped my feet and clawed at my bare skin hopelessly trying to rid myself of the feeling of crawling things over me. As I looked over, the ants were moving in a dizzying pattern over the couch cushions and in the candy bowl. They had not yet regrouped into a straight line to go wherever they would go. I leaned down and looked under the couch only to see the culprit- two dinner plates and one-half eaten pie plate resting comfortably on the floor.
“So what did you do then?” my co-workers asked when I did the retelling at work.
“Well, let’s just say, Logan Jackson heard his middle name far into the night as he moved the couch, vacuumed it and the floor, did the dishes, and bug sprayed the room!” I said vehemently. “It was horrible! I still feel as if I have bugs on me!”
“I heard if you use orange peels you can get rid of ants naturally, without chemicals,” said Beatrice, the office vegan.
“I heard the stuff you used is only good for roaches, not ants,” said my boss, “Do you have roaches?”
“No! Of course not!”
“Did you look to see if they were there this morning? My brother-in-law is an exterminator. He can come out monthly…” said another.
It is a funny thing- offices; sometimes you want to share your life, and sometimes you wish you hadn’t. I work in an office and regularly interact with the people in the warehouse filling orders. Soon, they had me telling the ant-on-the-lip story as well.
When I came home that night, ready to discuss “new rules for eating in the house”, I was shocked to discover the ants had moved to my kitchen. I use the word “discover” because that truly was what is was- a discovery. I have a dark granite counter top. As I measured out some rice, some spilled on the counter. When one started walking away, I did a double take and noticed that my dark counter top was filled with ants. My stove was covered in ants. And they were moving.
One ant in the yard is charming and it is doing what nature intended it to do. But an infestation in my home is so repulsive, so horrifying that I could barely be in the same room let alone in the same house.
“So what did you do this time?” my coworkers asked with a snicker.
“Well, I could hardly blame my son in my own kitchen! I run a clean house. Honest, I do! I got my husband to spray.” I glanced at the vegan and added, “We didn’t have any oranges on hand. So then we went out to dinner. When I came home, I washed down my entire kitchen with bleach water. It took me half the night, but there weren’t any ants this morning.”
“So, you went to a restaur-Ant?” someone quipped.
After a couple of high fives, we all returned to work as normal. Later that evening, as I was getting ready for bed, I checked the kitchen one more time only to find yet another infestation of thousands of ants.
I screamed. I cried. I stomped my foot and tried to claw off the crawly feeling from my arms and face. My poor husband put out ant traps and sprayed the kitchen as I instructed, “NOT ON THE COUNTER!”
The next morning, no live ants remained. However, on my work desk, a few plastic ants had been scattered. I wasn’t quite so vocal about my ant problem but I did tell my officemate I thought I had vampire ants because they only appeared at night. Soon, the office and warehouse people found a reason to stop by my desk to talk about my devi-Ants.
I had to repeat the procedure for two more nights before the ants were completely gone but never said another word about it to my coworkers. However, a good joke never dies. I found toy ants and paper ants all over my work space. After two weeks of hearing how independ-Ant I was and how import-Ant the work was that I was doing, my birthday came.
Normally, we have a potluck lunch to celebrate someone’s birthday and collectively go in for one or two small gifts. Imagine my surprise to see many more gifts on the table than usual. My boss walked me through every potluck dish.
“Joan made ants on a log out of raisins and peanut butter and celery. Cindy made cute little ants out of meatballs…” And so it went, down to chocolate sprinkles lined up on a cake to resemble ants crossing the gooey frosting. I tried so hard not to wipe the crawly feeling off my body. My smile was a result of my teeth being clenched so tightly together.
One ant in the yard is charming and it is doing what nature intended it to do. But an infestation in my home is so repulsive, so horrifying that I could barely be in the same room let alone in the same house.
“So what did you do this time?” my coworkers asked with a snicker.
“Well, I could hardly blame my son in my own kitchen! I run a clean house. Honest, I do! I got my husband to spray.” I glanced at the vegan and added, “We didn’t have any oranges on hand. So then we went out to dinner. When I came home, I washed down my entire kitchen with bleach water. It took me half the night, but there weren’t any ants this morning.”
“So, you went to a restaur-Ant?” someone quipped.
After a couple of high fives, we all returned to work as normal. Later that evening, as I was getting ready for bed, I checked the kitchen one more time only to find yet another infestation of thousands of ants.
I screamed. I cried. I stomped my foot and tried to claw off the crawly feeling from my arms and face. My poor husband put out ant traps and sprayed the kitchen as I instructed, “NOT ON THE COUNTER!”
The next morning, no live ants remained. However, on my work desk, a few plastic ants had been scattered. I wasn’t quite so vocal about my ant problem but I did tell my officemate I thought I had vampire ants because they only appeared at night. Soon, the office and warehouse people found a reason to stop by my desk to talk about my devi-Ants.
I had to repeat the procedure for two more nights before the ants were completely gone but never said another word about it to my coworkers. However, a good joke never dies. I found toy ants and paper ants all over my work space. After two weeks of hearing how independ-Ant I was and how import-Ant the work was that I was doing, my birthday came.
Normally, we have a potluck lunch to celebrate someone’s birthday and collectively go in for one or two small gifts. Imagine my surprise to see many more gifts on the table than usual. My boss walked me through every potluck dish.
“Joan made ants on a log out of raisins and peanut butter and celery. Cindy made cute little ants out of meatballs…” And so it went, down to chocolate sprinkles lined up on a cake to resemble ants crossing the gooey frosting. I tried so hard not to wipe the crawly feeling off my body. My smile was a result of my teeth being clenched so tightly together.
Everyone couldn’t wait for me to open the gifts. “Now comes the moment that has been highly ANT-ticipated!” the warehouse foreman quipped. Who knew there were so many movies made about ants? From cute cartoons to old drive-in horror movies, I unwrapped them all! The games were funny as well. I received the Ants in the Pants game and a Cooties game.
I was opening my very own ant farm kit amid peals of laughter, when I got up the courage to say, “Guys, I appreciate all you have done for my birthday. This has been so much fun. I have enjoyed it so much. Can we just let the ant thing go now?”
Suddenly, my cell phone rang.I noticed it was from my sister. She never calls me during the work day so I knew it must be important. “Wait, everyone, I need to take this!”
Everyone quieted down as I plugged one ear to hear what she had to say.
“Hello? Yes, I’m having a nice birthday... What’s up? Really? That’s wonderful! I know you have tried for so long… Congratulations! Ok, thanks for calling. We’ll talk tonight.”
I turned to look at my coworker’s questioning faces. My boss stepped toward me and said, “Well, perhaps we have taken our joke a little too far. We didn’t mean to be ANT- agonistic, but it was all with the best of intentions that we teased you. However, no more ant jokes- right everyone?”
I was opening my very own ant farm kit amid peals of laughter, when I got up the courage to say, “Guys, I appreciate all you have done for my birthday. This has been so much fun. I have enjoyed it so much. Can we just let the ant thing go now?”
Suddenly, my cell phone rang.I noticed it was from my sister. She never calls me during the work day so I knew it must be important. “Wait, everyone, I need to take this!”
Everyone quieted down as I plugged one ear to hear what she had to say.
“Hello? Yes, I’m having a nice birthday... What’s up? Really? That’s wonderful! I know you have tried for so long… Congratulations! Ok, thanks for calling. We’ll talk tonight.”
I turned to look at my coworker’s questioning faces. My boss stepped toward me and said, “Well, perhaps we have taken our joke a little too far. We didn’t mean to be ANT- agonistic, but it was all with the best of intentions that we teased you. However, no more ant jokes- right everyone?”
I could see everyone shaking their head, the merriment gone from their gag gifts and creativity. I didn’t mean to do it that way. But I knew I could get out of it.
“Well, there is no hope for it, people,” I said matter-of-factly. I hope my face wouldn’t give me away, “That was my sister. She’s going to have a baby. So, you know what that officially makes me?”
“AN AUNT!”
“Well, there is no hope for it, people,” I said matter-of-factly. I hope my face wouldn’t give me away, “That was my sister. She’s going to have a baby. So, you know what that officially makes me?”
“AN AUNT!”