and then some days i realize i could never be wess'har
There are ants in my closet.
Did you ever have that book called Millions of Cats when you were little? Allow me to adapt a quote from it to describe my situation: "Hundreds of ants, thousands of ants, millions and billions and trillions of ants!" The little tiny red kind that I thumb-smush when they're alone. But there are bigger ones, too. Ones that might actually squish when they smush, and ugggggh. It's mostly a numbers thing, though. I'm envisioning scenes from Gulliver's Travels taking place during the night.
I set up ant traps. Oh yes. Two of them, two different kinds, within a foot of each other. The ants have now snaked their path around both traps. They detoured around my poison! And I bet Maintenance won't send somebody up to spray until Monday. If I'm lucky. So I'm going to go buy ant spray tomorrow. And I'm going to get change in quarters, because I have to wash everything in the closet now. Fortunately there are only about a dozen things hanging there because I don't own nice clothes that have to be hung up, but seriously. Ugggh.
What makes it even worse is that I never did watch Star Wars. I spent four hours cleaning my room, singing Rufus and Counting Crows and Beatles songs along with my iTunes. Not my usual throw-shit-in-random-corners-till-you-can-see-the-floor method, but actually taking out the shit that I'd been throwing in corners for the past eight months and putting it in bins. I took down five (admittedly small) bags of garbage. I found my Brobdignagian Bards business tiddlywink and reminisced. I wore a stylin' purple bandanna like a hip Russian babushka. My room actually looked good, and I was looking forward to tomorrow when I would power up the vacuum just as my hallmates were waking up with their hangovers. I felt very Grinchly gleeful about the whole thing.
And now there are ants in my closet, and they have robbed me of my satisfaction. Screw you, little arthropods. SCREW YOU!