Last night I slept on an ant hill and this morning I almost burnt the house down.
When I am sick I sleep on the couch. I woke up to a sore throat and the sound of pouring rain. Awesome.
I groggily walked through the dark house closing windows and checking for leaks, then crawled back onto the couch. When the sun came up I noticed something weird with the floor. A colony of tiny black ants was marching in a straight line from the wall, across the floor, around the area rug, and under the couch. Where I slept all night. All of the sudden I started to itch.
I knew why they were congregating under the couch, probably feasting on popcorn and Cheezits (left there by my husband and son, NOT me). I won't bore you with my ant-extermination procedure, but picture me in my pajamas on my hands and knees on the hardwood floor. Then picture lots of Raid, paper towels, and swearing.
After that mess was cleaned up I decided I needed something to to eat. I put a pot of leftover beef stew on the stove and went to the bathroom. Let's just say I was in there for a while.
When I opened the bathroom door the house was filled with smoke and smelled like a cross between a dirty ashtray and a camp fire. I ran to the stove, coughing, and threw the pot outside. I couldn't believe the smoke alarm didn't go off. After opening every door and window, I went upstairs to check out the damage there.
My son was calmly watching T.V. through a cloud of smoke.
"What the hell? Can't you smell that? Didn't you notice the smoke?" I yelled, opening more windows.
"Uh, no." That was turning into his typical teenage reply.
"Ugh!" was all I could say.
On the bright side, I would rather deal with ants than cockroaches, and although the house still reeks, at least it didn't burn down.