Quality Control Freak
Hmm, two entries in a row starting with “I have just been…”. I hang my head in shame.
In other news, my right arm is sore from raquetball, and the ants have left my kitchen! There’s a whole colony of them living just outside – several whole colonies, really, but without chemical-dipped antennae I can’t tell them apart – and as the story goes, for the past several years they’ve come marching through holes in the walls at the slightest hint of slobbery.
I say slobbery, because I never thought those ants were hungry so much as they were just batty neat freaks, on par with the worst Odd Couple spinoff you could ever imagine. Little black clumps would coalesce around an obvious drop of jam, of course, but they would also form for completely invisible specks of nothing – the counter I’d wiped half an hour ago, the window sill, the toilet lid, and so on. Now, experience has taught me that I possess defective dirt-o-vision (a condition for which there are no corrective lenses) so the logical thing was to assume that clump of ants = invisible, but still very disgusting, piece of filth.
Enter my enterprising flatmate. She called up the housing office and convinced someone to do something – we’re not quite sure who did what, but such is the way of the housing office – and now the ants are gone. Totally gone, not just kept under control by obsessive-compulsive dishwashing; I left an empty kool-aid pitcher on the counter for most of the afternoon with no consequences!
To top it all off, my flatmate – who assures me that she has excellent dirt-o-vision – has not noticed any dirt of the kind I normally identify with the ant-cluster magnifying glass. This has me thoroughly boggled. A bit disjoint. I feel cheated somehow.
I don’t feel like my whole life has been a sham, but I’m worried about my poor scrubby sponge.