| Tuesday, December 25, 2001 |
02:20 - Antz, Antz Everywhere
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I would like to know just what it is that the ants find so fascinating about my room.
The last time we saw them was in the summer, when the heat apparently brought them out of the woodwork-- and now they're here again, evidently trailing in the opposite direction, populating the most inscrutable rooms in the house in the process, seeking warmth during this cold period.
I keep no food in my room. Yet on several occasions over the past few months, I've woken from disturbed dreams about ants marching across my face-- to find ants marching across my face. Let me tell you, that is not, in any way, a pleasant experience. And then that ants-on-skin twitchiness gets compounded with incredulous rage when I follow the ants in their trail down the edge of my desk, down the side of the scanner (all the while trying to remember what ingenious thing Richard Feynman did to get rid of the ants in his house), only to find-- they simply evaporated. I watched various ants for upwards of ten minutes each, finding that they did nothing but stumble around in weavy circles, apparently not making any progress toward any mass-transmitted goal. It's like someone yelled "Pic-a-nic basket in Brian's Room! Everybody move, double-quick!" ... and then retired to the officer's mess for a martini and promptly forgot about where he'd sent the troops off to. Ah, never mind-- they'll be back tonight. Frightfully sorry about the mix-up. They sure are obedient little buggers, though, what?
Some legend I read long ago talked about how for the duration of the midnight hour of Christmas, animals can talk. Well, if that were true, I'd have spent last night right here at home, pleading with the ants to take my word for it: There is nothing edible in here. Certainly not on my face.
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