May your troubles be less,
And your blessing be more.
And nothing but happiness,
Come through your door.
First, it was an army of tree frogs hopping through the family room. Seriously. This really happened. In 2009.
Then, in 2012, it was hordes of angry black hornets that spent the summer dive-bombing me as I sat minding my own business, an Epi Pen in one hand and a flyswatter in the other. This summer, it has been ants. Tiny red ones, middle sized gray ones, and large, shiny black ones, meandering aimlessly across the carpeting morning, noon, and night. Three different plagues upon my house. I am beginning to wonder what sorts of terrible things I did in a previous life.
Before the Ant Plague of 2014, I was one of those Weirdos who apologized to ants right before I stepped on ’em because when it came to ants, I figured it wasn’t an ant’s fault that he was smaller than me. It’s just how things turned out for both of us. That was before I found eight of them on a sugar high in my canister in July when I opened it. Since then, I have tried every home made concoction and store bought poison short of napalm to get rid of the rest of the crawly little colony.
As I watch a bigger ant carry a smaller ant corpse back to who-knows-where under the sofa, I tell myself that things can always be worse and even have a grudging admiration for an ant’s ability to stay focused and get stuff done. Even so, I wish they’d leave once and for all so that I can stop vacuuming the house daily. I’ve also been praying for either a miracle or a good, hard, frost.
And so, as the seasons change, with the exception of the ants, my house is cleaner than it usually is. And I’m trying to count my blessings….
I’m thankful that ants aren’t the size of hornets. Or tree frogs. Or chipmunks.
I’m thankful I own a vacuum cleaner that works.
And this year, I’m really, really thankful for September.