So when The Lovely Rhonda got home tonight from trench warfare in Small Community Hospital, she was dismayed to find sugar ants all over the table. Again.
I hadn’t noticed them because I’d spent the day holding down the couch watching reruns of Big Bang Theory, because I didn’t feel too well. So it goes.
And thus did the can of Ant-B-Dead come out and thus was it emptied into the crack where the wall meets the floor behind the table.
So the slider has been open all evening, to ameliorate the poison such that our lungs did not actually shrivel and kill us where we sat.
Now we’re preparing for bed, and as we logged off The Game the dog began to vigorously scratch his chin with his hind foot. He was laying alongside the small table we both sit at when we compute. This scratching necessitated a certain amount of compression of the bowel, apparently, and thus did he float a sudden honking air biscuit into our vicinity.
The funniest part is that he got up and sidled outside without further comment, aside from heaving a great sigh of disgust at us.