Many of you may already know I value and appreciate all animals. I see value in all living things. I try to understand the role that all creatures play in our ecosystem. Birds, I admire birds a great deal. Reptiles, I appreciate them from a distance but understand their value. Mammals, anything cute and fuzzy, is A.O.K. in my book. Insects, such as bees, spiders, butterflies, moths, and fireflies, I can peacefully coincide with them…again from a distance. However, what I cannot tolerate, what I will go to great lengths to destroy, and what I will obsess about ridding from my home are stink bugs and ants. Oh, and flies. I’ve been known to go to great lengths for the satisfaction of squashing a fly. But stink bugs and ants; they are my arch nemesis.
Currently, I am waging war against ants. Those filthy little…insert any colorful curse word here because it was already uttered…have infiltrated my coffee maker. Yes, my coffee maker. The device that brings me great comfort and happiness first thing in the morning before I have to face another day with The Bibbed Wonder and my now tyrannous Little Bean. I awoke yesterday to find my Keurig machine filled with tiny, villainous insects. An entire colony had moved into the top of the water tank of my Keurig overnight. I was appalled. Then I was sickened. Finally, I was angry. Of all the things to infiltrate, my beloved coffee maker is not the possession to mess with.
Seriously, why could they not infiltrate the washing machine rendering it useless? How about that darn vacuum cleaner? I don't like my vacuum cleaner, go ahead, make me sad by taking over the vacuum. If we are going with a kitchen theme, why not take over the oven? Oh, how distressing; I can't cook because there are ants in the oven! Nope, the nasty little f****** moved into the one kitchen gadget that brings me joy: my Keurig machine, Dirk. Yes, I named my coffee maker. If Dirk were human, he would have flowing black hair, blue eyes, washboard abs, and a charming German accent. Typically, my fantasy man has a British accent, but Keurig machines are German...I think. It's MY fantasy; it doesn't have to be accurate.
Initially, I tried to squash the little (again, insert a colorful curse word), but there were just too many. I believe the little fu@#$%! were hopped up on caffeine because I have never seen ants move that fast in all my life. Next, I tried to carry the water tank to the sink to drown them. By the time I crossed the kitchen, my hand was covered in the little black ba@!$%&*. I, of course, screamed, awakening The Bean, who is almost as pleasant as a rattlesnake in the morning. She saw my dilemma, shook her head, gave me the stink eye, and returned to bed. Thank you for the emotional support or an extra hand child that I have moved mountains for, sun in my universe, Laverne to my Shirley. I am considering changing her nickname to Atilla the Hun, but if I’m being transparent, she scares me, so I keep my mouth shut but refer to her as A.T.H. in my head. It makes me giggle on the inside, which incidentally is the only safe place to giggle when a teenage girl is around. Sigh.
I was left to deal with the evil, black, pulsating blob of ants on my own. I quickly cleared them from my hand and proceeded to drown them in my kitchen sink. When I was satisfied all the little black nasties were dead, I returned to my coffee maker only to find dozens more scurrying about. I believe I uttered, “What the ever-loving f***!” I tried to squash as many as possible, but they were too fast, and there were too many. It was time to bring out the big guns.
I have written before about my propensity for preparedness. Preparedness also includes bug spray, ant traps, and fly swatters. I was tempted to douse them with ant spray, but it’s my coffee-making machine of happiness. It's Dirk. I could not cover Dirk in poison. Instead, I exercised patience and restraint. I set out ant traps. I watched as the nasty little buggers swarmed the poison and carried it back to the bed of hell they came from…all the while laughing a villainous laugh and strumming my fingers…think Jim Cary’s character of The Count in A Series of Unfortunate Events. Okay, maybe that’s a little dramatic, but thinking of their destruction and demise was satisfying.
Last night before bed, I emptied the water tank of my Keurig machine. I removed the coffee mug Atilla the Hun, I mean The Bean, placed on the coffee maker for me. I jest; she is kind of moody and scary, but how bad can she be if she sets my favorite mug on the coffee maker for me every night before I go to bed? She’s a great kid, and beneath all that moodiness is a heart of gold. I’m also realistic enough to understand that it’s one less mug she has to put away when she grudgingly unloads the dishwasher, but why split hairs? Ultimately, she is the best.
I was relieved to see only one or two of the little black f****** crawling around the coffee maker this morning. I thought about squashing them, but then I remembered the rules of war. I left two of them alive to carry on my legend to the rest of the ant world. They will be the two survivors to report what happens if any more ants consider moving into my Keurig machine. Nothing awaits you but death, destruction, and pain. I will destroy you, your children, and your children’s children…insert a villainous laugh. I hate ants.
On this lovely May day, please stay safe and be smart; I hope your coffee maker is not overrun with ants, remember the rules of war when dealing with ants, and keep washing your hands. Seriously, ant poison is, well, poison. Wash your hands.