December 21, 2002
Ants
Let's see. It's Saturday morning, half two. I just cleaned the bathroom and killed lots of ants. I can't tell if they came in because the bathroom was nasty (which it often is considering it's my chore, and I get no help around here, and I have no time to clean it on a regular basis) or an escape from the rain outside. I've heard both about ants: they come inside to escape the water; they come in to find the water. OK, motherfuckers, make up your fucking minds before I squash you all into oblivion. Whatever. Just die. I hate ants, too.
Did I ever tell you my ant story? Wanna hear it? Here it goes:
One night, when I was living in my basement apartment in Monterey, I was out with my dear friend Liz. We were probably drinking margaritas at her place, yelling at the queers on the sidewalk below on their way to the only gay bar in town. We liked that. 'S OK, we knew them, they knew us. It was friendly, you know. Anyway, we lived on opposite sides of DLI from each other. So, this night, it was summer I think, but then it could have been winter because Monterey really only has one season: Monterey. (I've had a little wine tonight/this morning, so forgive.) So, I cut through DLI avoiding the MPs because they're not too keen on civilians cutting through DLI at all hours of the morning. I know this because I used to be enlisted and stationed at DLI, but you can know this by reading my 100 things page (number 16). Whatever. Irrelevant.
So, I get home, lock the door, turn off all the lights, tear off my clothes and fall into bed. It must have been winter; summers are never warm enough to sleep nekkid. And what do I feel on my bed but small things wiggling around.
I jump up, screech like a girl, flip on the light to find a swarm of ants that had made its way from the window (at ground level) down the wall and on to my bed. I freaked. I think I may have even curled up in the corner for a minute or so.
In any case, I ran for the Raid and sprayed the bejeezus out of the trail leading to and from the window. I picked up my green fuzzy (infested) blanket and ran outside and shook the bejeezus out of it to rid it of ants.
What I'm failing to express here is the sheer fright and lunacy that took over my (drunken) rational mind at this time. It was seriously affecting, and I let it affect me. This was like three in the morning or something silly, but I didn't care. I had to get rid of them.
Long story short, I managed to kill them all and deter them from coming in my bedroom again. So this was six years ago already, and the mere memory of that night/morning still gives me shivers thinking of those little bastards crawling over me. I'm getting weak.
That apartment was really not that bad. I liked the place. The location was perfect, although it was directly under the landing path of airplanes landing at Monterey (Int'l) Airport, so whenever I was on the phone and a plane of any size flew overhead, I had to wait a few seconds for it to pass before I could continue talking. The landlord was a stupid, ignorant, Catholic, homophobic Italian asshole whose wife was a shrew if there ever was one. And remind me to tell you about the raccoons. I love that particular saga of Clay Street, but not tonight/this morning. I really have to go to bed.
That's all.
Today's the Winter Solstice. So everyone rejoice!! Go out and play and frolick and make love and be happy!!
