The Ants Go Marching

I realize there’s a theme to my thoughts lately. Life seems to be the same, day after day, with even the variations becoming routine. One day this week we’ll throw up our hands and order food. One day this week RR will go to bed ridiculously early. One night this week Debra will be out and I’ll watch something on TV that she wouldn’t bother with. One morning at work I’ll accomplish all the things, another none of the things. One night I’ll sleep so well I’ll never want to get up. One day we’ll go to the grocery store after school and RR will get one of the same 10 snacks she always gets.

I suppose I should be grateful that we don’t do the same thing each day at the same time. Tuesday for the grocery! Thursday for band! A schedule is comforting to an extent, I suppose, but it feels oppressive. I’m pretty sure this is another on the list of things we can blame on my childhood.

I’ve been halfway looking for a break in the clouds. Figuratively, of course. Except today there was a literal break in the clouds and I realized that this is probably the February/March doldrums talking and no indication anything is wrong. I mean to say – all the same things that were wrong are still wrong, or at least sitting on the slowly spinning lazy susan of the Wrong Buffet. But the Wrong Buffet is so meager that complaining seems unnecessary. For instance:

  • There are ants periodically invading our kitchen but they are coming up from the middle of the house. This probably isn’t good. Especially since we can’t find their trail anywhere.
  • The dog dug another hole in the yard. I suppose we’ll have to fill it up.
  • RR has left a banana peel or apple core on the table. Again. The ants apparently don’t care.
  • Our anniversary is next week. We don’t have plans and I don’t particularly need to have plans. Should I be deliriously happy? Can we settle for pleased?
  • The lining is falling off of the inside of the car but we have taxes to pay. Good thing they make glue, I guess.
  • The mattress has a lump.

And so you see, I am the very epitome of First World Problems. Having lived for several years in countries where ants would be welcome(er) because at least that meant you had food, I am as aware as you are that my life is exceptionally good. I’m not ungrateful. I do think February and March are soul-suckers and so it’s a good thing there are only 29 days of this bullshit left.


4 Responses

  1. February is the absolute worst. March is only vaguely better.

    Get Terro for those ants. It helps immensely.

    I’d love it if the dog only dug one new hole. Betsy beagle appears to be creating a trail of holes in the yard. We think it was her that dug up her invisible fence AGAIN causing it to go on the blink, but we’re not sure. The guys that load the bags of dirt into my trunk at Southern States laugh at how much soil I buy to fill in beagle holes, but this week’s holes have been epic.

    My better half insisted we go out for Valentines because he’s that guy. I was so not in the mood to go out but we ended up having a lot of fun. So go, do something impromptu for your anniversary. You’ll be glad you did.

  2. Our dog eats her own shit and won’t stop. I hate her.

  3. Felt fitting to read this as it’s pouring outside. For our 10th wedding anniversary this year, we’re remodeling our bathroom. We always said we’d go to Hawaii for our tenth. How priorities change…

  4. Cville sits on an anthill. I have it on good authority.

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