I’m a little afraid to go downstairs.

It all began this morning with cleaning.  Sigh.  I am a terrible cleaner, in that I never, ever, ever want to do it, and when I finally buckle down to it, a certain condition must exist: I must be alone, or with someone wearing emotional Kevlar, because I get fucking mean when I clean.  It’s a combination of shame and frustration that turns into anger, and I swing between being a raging psycho hose beast to being paralyzed by the sheer scope of what must be done.  In the past, the only person I’ve really done any cleaning with has been my mother, so it’s possible that there’s something about her that triggers these mood swings, but I blame the cleaning.

Anyway, part of the cleaning today was to sort through the books that I bought at the library book sale in March and get them added into my LibraryThing catalog (even though a good chunk of the books I own aren’t in there yet, it seemed important that they not go onto the shelf with empty space, which is completely cataloged, without being cataloged themselves).  So I sat on the floor in the living room to do this…

…and discovered that I have ANTS.  This isn’t a new problem.  There are cracks in the grout in the tiles around my fireplace that have always, since my first year here, sent ants scurrying up into the apartment.  Usually, the ants scurry in and die right away — the pest control service that my complex uses is apparently using Kyrptonite.  Anyway, in the past, I have defeated the ants by relying upon this pest control and occasionally by filling the cracks with Comet.  It’s a weird strategy and not at all kid- or pet-safe, but having none of these, it’s been working fine.

This year, the Comet having been swept away over the winter, apparently the ants are coming in and LIVING and possibly partying.  I am a vegetarian, I was appalled last week to find out that my favorite laundry detergent and shampoo are made by companies that test their products on rabbits, I’m generally an excellent Friend to Animalkind, but bugs… bugs and I cannot get along.  Particularly when I find them crawling on me.

So I went to Target and bought “earth-friendly” Raid, and after vacuuming the entire area, I sprayed every crack and cranny in which the bugs could possibly be getting in.  The only problem here is that the spray, which is very wet,  definitely mixed with the Comet that was still clinging to the sides of the tiles (Comet that lived through the vacuuming and everything, and that I didn’t see until post-spraying) and now, I’m thinking either the first floor of my apartment is going to blow up under the force of a previously unheard-of chemical reaction, or I’m going to go into some kind of fumes-induced coma.

See?  See?  Cleaning leads to coma!  No wonder I hate it so.

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3 Responses to I’m a little afraid to go downstairs.

  1. webcowgirl says:

    I read this and I can only think that there’s something very, very important that you’re studiously avoiding doing.

  2. kepkanation says:

    Sadly, the cleaning *is* the very, very important thing that I’ve been studiously avoiding. Must clean before I can pack; must pack before I can move; must move before July 31; etc. etc.

  3. starstraf says:

    So did you make progress? Do you want to make a KC run tomorrow for a bit? or a movie run? I understand completely if you can’t.

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