Another glorious, sunny day…..with temps in the 70’s but feeling warmer. Craig was back on the boat, trying to finish up all his projects, ever hopeful we’ll be cruising this summer. I tidied up the garden while Felix hid from passing dogs. All was right with the world…..until lunch time.
Dark specks littered the countertop. Sheesh….didn’t we wipe it after dinner last night? I grabbed the sponge and was about to start cleaning the offending crumbs when one of them moved! Then another…..then another. Yikes, these were no crumbs, they were wriggling, little larvae!
Not proponents of “live and let live” when it comes to creepy crawlies, we killed them all and disinfected the countertop. Whew, glad that was over.
But our celebration came too soon. The vermins’ brothers and sisters and cousins and aunts and uncles and friends all joined forces and came to avenge.
It was all-out war now. Where were they coming from? We cleared the countertop and removed the food. Craig lay in wait…..ever vigilant…..watching for any movement. Ah-ha! He spied them falling from overhead…..dropping from knot holes in the ceiling!
We took no prisoners….we sprayed insecticide in each and every possible entry point and then retired to the living room, gloating in our triumph.
But victory was short-lived…..while we were resting on our laurels, they had begun a counter-attack.
Like generals before a battle, we reviewed our troops…..DISH SOAP (check), PAPER TOWELS (check), INSECTICIDE (check).
We drew our battlelines with DISH SOAP…..none will escape its slippery slime. PAPER TOWELS were at the ready to swoop in and destroy the evil invaders. Our secret weapon, INSECTICIDE, was held in reserve. We were ready for them.
The evening wore on with neither side willing to capitulate…..but the enemy’s numbers were decreasing with each passing hour. We brought out the big guns….. and tried again to bomb them into oblivion with INSECTICIDE.
With poisonous fumes wafting in the air around us, we were confident the battle was finally won so we adjourned to bed for a hard-won rest.
The object of war is not to die for your country but to make the other bastard die for his….George Patton