Humor
I'm a Pushover For Pests
BY SHERRI CONER
A
djusting to life in Florida is like a hazing. Every crit er that could possibly take advantage of my nerve system is giving me a run for my money. Shortly aſt er moving in, I went to the beach to watch the sun- set. Zillions of sand fl eas infested my feet and ankles. I scratched off half of my epidermis and invested
in every single anti-itch ointment, spray... you name it. Just when I decided that amputating both legs was the only answer, the sand fl eas moved on. I will just barely
mention the day I sat down in the yard… right on top of a fi re ant community. That’s also the day I stuff ed the water hose down my pants because, well, I have no shame when it comes to those types of emergencies. When I started feeding squirrels in my backyard, the population jumped from three to 27. If I don't lavish them
with unsalted peanuts at the time they expect, the lit le dears turn into burglars. So far, the bandits have broken into the screened porch to steal half of a Pop Tart, one graham cracker and two pieces of doughnut. They have gnawed the paint off the storage closet door, trying to get to the peanuts. Coons and opossums have also chosen my address. They arrive with families in tow, ask me for the salt and
They arrive with families in tow, ask me for the salt and pepper and then shamelessly tear into my trash cans.
pepper and then shamelessly tear into my trash cans. But I can't be mean to them. And they obviously know that. When a palmet o bug the size of a hamster started dive-bombing my face last night, I fi nally lost my patience. "Knock it off ," I hissed. "Never," the giant bug said with a laugh. "I mean it, you lit le terrorist," I shouted. "I will light up your life with my fl ip-fl op if you
don't get going." "Never," he said again. And wham, he kamikazeed my face and buzzed under my hair.
Well yes, that freaked me out. Yes it did. I jumped like my hair was on fi re and bat ed at the air until the bad
bug leſt my messy tresses and landed on my keyboard. "Good times," he grinned and crossed all those creepy legs. "Fine," I sighed. "You can have the porch to yourself. I'm going to bed." This morning, I found ants from 13 coun-
ties. They were swimming in dribbles of spilled Pepsi, lounging on dropped chips and hauling away toast crumbs. "Are you... uh... here to stay?" I asked. "Probably," one of them smiled. "I kinda guessed that," I said with an eye roll. "Well... can I get you anything?" "I don't think so," another ant said. "You're so messy, I think we're good for a few days."
JULY - OCTOBER 29
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