| A Terrible Mildness |
[Feb. 9th, 2005|08:09 pm]
rejectomorph
|
More inexplicable warmth on the way, and the days already sing with the flutter of hummingbird wings. The numbers of the ants are growing, too, and they have begun to invade the kitchen. Every night I must execute many of them where they crawl, and the smell of the formic acid crushed from their bodies lingers for hours following each slaughter. I don't want to use insecticide in the kitchen, and I can't find the place from which they enter the house, so it's hand-to-antenna combat, night after night. I wonder that I don't have nightmares.
The infection has been fought to a draw for the moment, and I now have no more than a runny nose, though I must consider the possibility that this symptom is not of viral origin, but the result of the vigorous false spring which has caused so many flowers to bloom prematurely. It may be merely the usual allergies arriving early. Not wishing to take chances, I'll assume it is in fact viral, and continue to spend most of my time in the warmer part of the house, leaving Sluggo to sleep and (most likely) dream of my destruction. |
|
