Our troubles are just beginning.
I’ve long made the argument that I live the perfect balance between dirty and clean. In fact, I’m a model teeter-tater when it comes to sanitation issues. I never stay stuck on one side for long. When things get dirty, I clean them. After they get clean, I dirty them. My apartment is no different from any other part of my life. I also have a cleaning lady – part of the arrangement here – who keeps it clean most of the time. So when my mother and sister called me a slob, I defended my position. And I would have made a winning argument if it hadn’t been for the ants.
My sister notices them first. She comes out of the bathroom flapping her arms like the mentally deranged. At first I assume her behavior is a side affect of her shopping blisters. I suggest a vodka remedy. “It’s in the freezer,” I say. My mother wakes up at this time. Nobody has any idea what’s going on.
“Ants,” my sister says. And by her movements, one would think they are crawling all over her. My mother, still groggy from her nap, doesn’t hear her right.
“Pants?” she asks. “Is it the stitching?” Perhaps my sister has discovered a flaw in a recent purchase.
“Ants,” my sister repeats falling dizzily onto the bed. I burst into the bathroom to assess the situation. Sure enough it’s infested. They are everywhere: spilling into places like a trickling red flame. Next, I do the only sensible thing. I retrieve the umbrella form my mother’s purse and reenter the bathroom like a rapid dog. If I can’t scare them off, then I’ll bludgeon them to death. But when I hammer around the sink sending toiletry items every which way, my mother reminds me that bludgeoning is not the best solution.
“What else can we do?” I ask.
“Call the landlady?”
“And what can she do?”
“Call The Fumigator?”
It sounds like a good plan. I suggest that we talk about it over dinner and the three of us backpedal out of there. I’m holding the umbrella like a billy-club, and it’s a good thing too. When we hit the streets, the rain is really coming down.
**********
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CONTINUE READING: IV. There’s a word for it: BUNK
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1 PIPEinArgentina.com » Blog Archive » Spanish Lessons and later, Flying Ants // Oct 18, 2007 at 2:41 pm
[...] we get back to my apartment, it’s infested with flying ants. They’re big too, like the monkeys in The Wizard of Oz. They’re coming in through the bathroom [...]
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