Or: Something I Wrote One Year Ago because I’m too Lazy to Write Anything New
The ants have invaded my bed again.
No, I do not know how where they came from and why they keep coming back. What I do know are that they drop by my bed at least twice every year and that despite my best efforts, I’ve yet to find a permanent solution to the problem.
I’ve tried everything to get rid of them and nothing has proved effective in the long run. No matter what I do, they keep coming back like they owned my bed also.
Save throwing my bed out the window, I’ve also tried: changing the covers, throwing all my pillows to the floor, eating downstairs and not on my bed, gassing the entire room with bug-killing spray, swearing loudly when they wake me up, hunting them down one by one and taking them on like a real killer, rolling over the bed and hoping that my weight kills them, moving my bed away from the wall so they won’t get on it, giving up completely and letting them crawl everywhere…
I’ve done every possible thing to get rid of them, but they keep coming back.
Everything, save for actually cleaning my room.
My brother guarantees that cleaning my room would prove most useful. But I’m too busy reading, sleeping, eating, plotting out the rest of my life, dreading Monday, sleeping, and a million other things, that I just can’t be bothered with something so trivial as sweeping my room.
It’s a dirty tactic, I know. But I figure that the less energy I spend on the bugs, then the happier I’ll be. Of course, that means I’ll have to put up with the odd bite marks on my legs, but if that gives me peace of mind, then it should be fine.
They’ll go away, eventually. Experience tells me that I now only have to expect one more visit from them this year after this. So clearly, I’ll still come out the winner anyway.
At least, that’s what I hope my mother will believe the next time she asks why my room is so dusty.
Song for the Weekend:
“She’s the one I’m running with.”