a story while i nibble...

This is one for the books.  A story much more fascinating than my love of pink Laffy Taffy.

It involves flying ants, my face, a drowsy roommate, and oh, so much more.

I've never appreciated Choking Victim's "Infested" so much til this morning.  5:30 this morning in fact.  I went to bed about an hour later than I meant to, but figured I'd be sleeping til 7:30 anyway. Not so much.

5:30 am, I awake to the feeling of a bug trying to explore the caverns of my left nostril. I figure, Oh hey, gross, a fly got in, and I startled, looking across the horizon of my pillow for the culprit. T'was difficult considering I saw about five possibilities - Winged creatures scuttling about. My eyes shift to see about five more. And five more. And more. Buzzing about atop my pillow, my wall, about thirty smallish winged bugs partying in the corner where my headboard is. All around my face. Which means I probably had drunk flying ants puking up their Mike's Hard Lemonade on my chubby cheeks all night.

So what do I do? Well, sit up. Stare at this horrifying sight - First in terror, then in anger. It was hitting me at this point that I would not be going back to sleep tonight. Second thought, do I wake up the roommate? I was seriously thinking at this point that I'd left some scrap of food in my bed at some point and I was a little disgusted with myself, and kind of embarrassed.  False, in fact, I'm not as gross as I thought, but it's amazing the things that cross your mind when you awake to find out that creatures have been breeding on your face all night long.

After an eternity of sitting there with my quilt over me like a cape, pondering what to do next, mouth agape [probably not smart], I finally woke up my roommate by calling out her name and crying, "We're infested!"

This worked - She popped up, took one look, and immediately, while still obviously in a state of sleep, tells me "I'm calling the cops."  I did realise, however, that she meant Public Safety.

There was a nest in her windowsill.  In fact, her windowsill was brown and moving:  Baby flying ants and breeding adult ones.  They got in from the outside through a hole in the corner of the window, and henceforth became squatters.

They're all dead now, far as we know.  Exterminator came, did his thing. Someone is going to clean the place from top to bottom for us eventually. Big sigh.

Apparently we are the first at this university to have a problem with flying ants.

How Silly!