Friday, June 20, 2008


How utterly, strangely, deeply weird.

I came downstairs this evening, having been sitting on the balcony, to find Joshua frantically mopping the kitchen floor, because "We have ants! Hundreds of them!" I pretty much ignored this because to Joshua, three flies is one of the plagues of Egypt and he announces that they're taking over the house.

So I'm sitting there eating (having ordered from only the best Chinese restaurant in the world, from which one's food arrives 15 minutes later so hot that you have to let finger food type things sit a minute or you get burned) and I look down at the floor - and by God, ANTS. Not, you understand, the thousands upon thousands of them that Joshua had led me to believe, but certainly several ants on my kitchen floor.

This is WEIRD. Not being prone to panic (they are very small ants), I looked around for the source, figuring that if they were coming from say, under the stove or something, then I'd scrub down the area and spray under there (or wherever) and thereby cut off their access. But I couldn't find anywhere they were coming from...they were just there, in the middle of the floor, scurrying about in an antish fashion. Naturally, I sprayed them dead, but where on earth were they coming from? I am deeply confused. Particularly since I have seen precisely two ants in all the years we've lived in this house.

Joshua, incidentally, hasn't got much of a clue about how bug sprays work. He sprayed the floor and then promptly mopped it. This doesn't make any sense whatsoever. Surely if you're trying to kill something, then you leave the killing stuff there, right? Logically, this would give the ants the idea that the floor was not a wholesome place to be.

And sorry, Tiger Lily - I didn't go to Harlem today - I took a mental health day instead. And as to where I was in Harlem, it was 122nd and Lenox, roughly.

Meanwhile, that lovely great big check I put in my account has decided it doesn't want to clear yet - I guess it'll come around on Monday - I hope. At least the original small burst of cash it generated let me go off today and eat steak tartare at Markt in Chelsea, buy some T-shirts at Old Navy (because certain people to whom I gave birth have a tendency to raid my dresser drawers, leaving me coming into full summer with precisely two T-shirts to my name), and have my nice Chinese dinner.

Also today I called SAG (the Screen Actors Guild) to start the machinations necessary to get my card back - everybody cross their fingers, because it seems that since I once was a member, I may be able to get away with paying less than their friggin' punitive initiation fee - which is almost $2400. One can only hope.

To bed, to bed - but I think I'd better wash first, since I seem to have salt and pepper shrimp under my fingernails.

Love, Wendy

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