I was going to write a whole post about how G.I. Joe 2 is going to suck because they ditched all the character actors (I'm including Marlon Wayans in this group, surprisingly) but instead I have to tell you about our infestation. A plague is on our house.
Rain has finally come to our sunny climes and brought friends. First there were ants. Rogue little bastards wandering around my kitchen and making free with their tiny ant feet. I don't know what it is about them, but I hate ants in my house. Outside, they're fine. In Polynesia, they are everywhere and I don't begrudge them their dominance. Here in Oakland, however, they incite revulsion. I see them and I must obliterate them and wash everything they've pawed.
I think it's the feet. Those damn touch-everything feet. I've been on ant killing rampages every morning this week. Husband-cat has similar feelings so at least twice a day there is someone in the kitchen screaming "Die! Die! Die!" and frantically cleaning. Baby Flails-a-lot thinks this is hilarious.
The second wave showed up today. Fat, slow, stupid flies the size of my thumb. So big and ponderous, in fact, they walk places. You can pick them up. The Hub brought it to my attention. He was so contemptuous of them he plucked at least ten flies from various surfaces around the house and tossed them out the door. He didn't even bother killing them because they were so pathetic. At one point he retracted the blinds and one died of head trauma. It was too big to be crushed flat by the wimpy plastic slats so we assume the internal injuries got it. Or maybe a heart attack due to shock.
I had been grossed out by their sheer bulk, but when I realized how slow they were I got in on the action. I
picked up one that was waddling along the floor(!) and its cousin JoBob on the bookshelf and tossed those freeloaders out.The weird thing was, they just kept appearing and we couldn't tell where they were coming in. We didn't have our doors open or anything, it's cold. Our biggest floor lamp has had three to four wandering over it all day.
Then, while peacefully relaxing on the couch next to said lamp, we noticed there were eight more flies clustered on the nearest ceiling beam. Eight. That's a lot of flies when you've been de-flying your house all day. And like a lightening bolt from heaven we remembered the rat traps. Ever since the suicidal mouse situation we have rat traps in our attic. I started laughing hysterically.
Me: *wheeeeze* "They're fat and slow because they've been gorging on animal carcass! *hahahahahahhaha* You've been catching them all day with your bare hands. Overstuffed death flies! You're Lord of the Flies."
The Hub: "An animal corpse in our attic?! I'm going up there. I have to know."
Me: "And do what? Grab a fly swollen rat corpse? What if you find one covered in flies and you disturb it and they swarm you in an attempt to get out of the attic? You gonna run screaming across the ceiling beams and fall down the attic hatch door?"
The Hub: "Hmmm. In that scenario there might be screaming."
Me: "Waking Baby Flails-a-lot?"
The Hub: "Good point. Better a rotting corpse then a cranky baby."
Me: "We can go one more day...."
(We both look at the fly gang, staring at their bloated misshapen bodies)
Me: "Eww. Before they were funny."
The Hub: "Now there's just too many."
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