Tardy slip

To my employer:

Last night when I got home from work, I discovered, to my horror, that our kitchen had been invaded by tiny little ants. After following their trail into the dining room, I promptly freaked out, then set about cleaning off everything on the kitchen counters, washing the few unwashed dishes I had unwisely decided to put off doing until later, and hunting down the bug spray. It was in the laundry room, where I promptly stubbed my toe on the ironing board trying to get it down from the shelf.

I confess I went on an ant-killing rampage. I sprayed bug spray in every little nook and cranny around the stove I could find, then had a second freak-out session when I discovered the ants were coming into the kitchen from the dining room via the ceiling. Try aiming bug spray in the air and not get any in your eyes. It’s a challenge, let me assure you.

This is Dixie's "I know I did something wrong, but can you forgive me" look. Works every time.

I used the bug spray liberally. And by liberally, I mean I almost emptied the can. As we have a small dog and an even smaller chinchilla in residence, I opened the dining room windows to vent the pesticide fumes from the house. The dog hid in my parents’ bedroom. The chinchilla’s cage was dragged into the living room while the fumes aired out and the ants died in the fog.

The combination of the bug spray and me smashing every ant I saw seems to have deterred the pests from both the dining room and the kitchen — for now.

This morning, as I came downstairs to grab my things in order to go to work, I noticed that the dining room windows were still open, even though my father had told me he’d shut them before he left for the day. But, since it wouldn’t take more than a few seconds of my time to close, I did so. However, I failed to notice that my little dog had, shall we say, a small accident next to the dining room table. As I stepped back from shutting the window, I felt something go squish underneath my foot.

Cue the third freak-out in 12 hours. I pulled my shoe off and immediately ran to the laundry room sink. But dog poo, as you know, is not so easily cleaned off by running water. Paper towels were involved. As were Clorox wipes, an old scrub brush, an ice scraper and several toothpicks to clean out every little groove in my tennis shoe.

I agree that I could have just put on another pair of shoes, but if you’ve ever stepped in doggy-doo, you know that you should never let it dry on.

After cleaning off my shoe (now smelling lemony fresh!) I had to attend to the mess in the dining room. All I can say is, by that time, I was counting my blessings that we had replaced the carpet in the dining room several years ago with laminate flooring. Otherwise, the dog and I would have been in deeper doodie than we already were.

More paper towels, Clorox wipes and the ice scraper later, and the mess had finally been cleared up. A little Febreeze in the air, and all traces of the “accident” were gone.

Long story short, I apologize for being an hour late to work this morning. I hope you can understand my reasons.

Thank you,
Me

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Filed under pets, this is my life

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