I'll show you now-now.
Last night it rained for the first time in what has got to be four months by now. And while rain is generally a good thing in these parts at the moment, since everyone is fairly done with breathing in the red dust of the winter already, and I'm still rooting for the tree the Hubby 'planted' in the garden in its attempts to maintain some semblance of life, rain also heralds other events that aren't something one looks forward to.
Like a massive ant migration. (ants are small, but the migration massive)
Through the sloppily isolated window frames, via the ceiling (they really like dropping down on the kitchen counter from there, which makes me think I'm hosting the ant equivalent of the Cirque du Soleil), and finally into my sugar. In droves, into my organic, cost-me-a-bundle-of-the-Hubster's-hard-earned-moolah (which he apparently is paid mainly for yelling at people over the phone and talking in numbers and abbreviations when we really could be playing golf instead), unrefined brown sugar, which, as it turns out, is in fact Ant Cancun.
Cantcun? No?
That's where they all come to hang out after the long, harsh winter. But they shouldn't. They should just stay were they belong.
"What exactly is the problem?" you might be wondering, "Ext doesn't even use sugar."
Well, it's all about placement.
Huh?
The sugar is placed directly next to, you guessed it, my coffee. And now the trendsetters of the 'vacationing' (They're really looking to immigrate permanently, I just know it. Who wouldn't?) colony are growing tired of Cancun and all of the short and sneaker wearing American tourists, and are turning their brown little heads towards something with a more original, more Mexican vibe, thus eyeing my coffee with glints of originality-cum-mass-tourism in their tiny little ant-eyes.
It's only a matter of time before Cancun gets old and an obscure little island off the coast of Quintana Roo called Cafeína becomes the new in place.
And there will be ants in my coffee. In my organic blend of Ethiopian Yirga Cheffe and Tanzanian coffee.
Ants. Stay where you belong! It's my coffee, and I don't want to share with you!
Shopping list for today:
1 bag of decoy coffee.
1 huge-ass can off either Dyant or Doom, depending on which ever promises more destruction and mayhem. Or which ever one it is that smells like Christmas.
I like it better when death smells like Christmas.
Disclaimer:
If one of you dares to suggest to me to just move the coffee, or makes any mention of a possible ant aversion to said substance, this will immediately lead to said person being labeled as pro-ant, anti-person, pro-antialism, and possibly secretly harboring ants in little ant training camps, where the ants are taught to blend in with people before executing their devious ant-schemes.
I'm declaring war here!
Actually, no I'm not. I'm just policing the globe a little bit. I'm entitled to the coffee after all. Since I bought it, and it keeps me going.
I know. I'm confused too.
