ARGENTINIAN ANTS IN MY PANTS

Image from drawception.com

Image from drawception.com

Oh oh, my first encounter with trouble in Paradise. I’m either about to be arrested for MAJOR cocaine possession, or El Chapo, the escaped Mexican drug lord, is about to show up on my doorstep demanding to know why I have about 3 kilos of his white powder laid out on my lanai floor. Either way, my future is not looking so glowing.

My road to perdition began about one month ago, when I drew back my Bahamian curtains to greet the sunshine and morning and saw…my entire white lanai floor covered in chocolate brown sand, which had definitely not been there the previous night. As my sleepy brain was trying to process this situation, I couldn’t fail to notice that the entire floor was in motion. Stepping out to investigate, I realized that my outdoor living space had been high jacked by approximately 10,000 teeny ants. Thinking they were fire ants, after years of living in Texas and the Carolinas, I immediately grabbed my laptop and googled “Tiny Evil Bastards”.

Turns out Evita wasn’t the only thing brought here from Argentina; Linepithema Humile came along for the ride as well. As luck would have it, they eat the honeydew that is produced by honeysuckle, which covers the entire lanai side of my flat. Am I a lucky girl or what?  For some reason this season the landscapers had decided to leave the gorgeous orange honeysuckle untrimmed until its bloom cycle finished. This left the shrubs pushing hard against my screens, creating expressways for my miniscule roommates to move in.

Enter my new favorite Man of My Dreams, Joey the exterminator, who sadly informed me that all his beetlejuice would do is kill off the workers, forcing the queens to produce more and more replacement ants. “Don’t even waste a dime on poisons, totally worthless, and yeah, that’s coming from me, an exterminator. If you tell property management I said that, I’ll deny, deny. Get these bushes trimmed back and spread baby powder all around. It doesn’t kill them, just scares them shitless. Trust me on this.”

Always one to bow to authority, especially ones with a giant cockroach on top of their service vehicle, I promptly headed to Dollar Tree and bought their entire inventory of talc. The curious cashier couldn’t resist inquiring, so I opted for livening up her dull day. “I just kidnapped 8 newborns from the hospital down the street and if you don’t stop with the questions, one of those squirts is gonna get it!”

In a hormonal homicidal rage I raced home and fired up the industrial strength shop vac Mr. Adorable had loaned me and began dispatching both the living and the dead to their maker. I was chuckling like a mad woman as I spread that baby powder over every square inch of my lanai; I even poofed it onto the screens themselves, as a way of having the final knockout in this battle.

As a testament of my gratitude to Joey, whose wily expertise allowed me to regain my precious outdoor real estate back, we are currently planning an October wedding. If you think talcum powder is just for stinky baby butts…you would be wrong, soooo wrong.

The only downside to my happy ending is…this powdery substance is apparently permanent; it refuses to be vacuumed or swept up. It is seemingly a part of the floor, which has lead to some inquisitive and lingering glances from the two narcotics officers who live across the way.

As for El Chapo’s eminent arrival, I’ve got that covered. Stocked my bar with a bottle of Gran Patron Platinum, have a succulent platter of enchiladas suizas in the oven and a huge skillet of frijoles refritos simmering on the stove. Figure I’ll get the chubby little Mexican drunk and stuffed, then hand him a rolled up hundred dollar bill, send him out to the lanai and ask him to breath deeply. BTW, I fully intend to collect on his bounty!

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