It’s pouring down rain…again. I am confused as to when the aliens came and sucked up Arlington into their spacecraft and dropped us into the center of Seattle while we slept.
Don’t get me wrong. I like the rain. I like it a lot. I find it beautiful, peaceful, soothing, and even erotic if I’m listening to Enya with the doors and windows open during a heavy downpour. But I could really use about 3 days straight of nothing but sunshine so that I can kill these damn ants in my backyard.
I know. I’m a walking oxymoron that goes from crunchy, natural fibers only clothes growing her own organic herbs and vegetables in the garden and fretting about water conservation and the global warming issues to wanting to pour pesticides all over that now knee-high ant bed overtaking my lawn and eating the Birkenstocks off my feet. Yeah, be critical. But you know what? My 3 extremely allergic to everything kids trump your not having walked with my bunions opinion. So die those ants must.
If it would just stop friggin’ raining long enough to be effective and not run off into the local water table causing kids to be born with 9 toes on each foot. Yeah, I’m all kinds of hippie, huh?
