Why I hate ants so damn much…

The ants are back in Aptos full force and I hate ants. They disgust me. I’d rather deal with spiders than ants. But yes, I was reminded me of another dark night not so long ago, and one of my favorite near-mental breakdowns and one of my absolute favorite journal entries….

Feb. 14, 2007
Currently Reading:  A.H.W.O.S.G., by Dave Eggers

I just had one of the most horrifying experiences of my whole life, possibly THE most horrifying experience.

Due to my current pathetic status I am without a car, squatting at my grandparent’s beach house, walking to the carpool so I can get to work, about to be kicked out of my house in a month, and alone and painfully sober on Valentine’s Day.

And okay, the Valentine’s Day thing is not such big deal but it does make things sound more dramatic doesn’t it? I actually went for margaritas, dinner, and some girly time with Laura before our last guitar class. And after class she drove me home where we continued to have girly time and watch Lost until 11:00.

But after that I was alone…

And I wanted to take a shower because, you know, I’m clean like that. So I get undressed, step into the shower, and when I turn on the water it smells like eggs… like really bad eggs. Like sulfur. Like SHIT!

And I’m sitting (well, standing actually) there in shitty sulfur water when I think, fuck it, I may as well wash my hair, maybe it’s just the old pipes. So then I proceed to wash… quickly.

And for whatever reason I’m reluctant to get the water in my eyes — I dunno, like THAT will kill me as opposed to everything else — so while standing in the shower I close my eyes and bump against the wall/window a bit because I’m bracing myself there so I don’t slip and kill myself in the tub like some old lady during my blind cleansing/bathing…

(this has to be some kind of metaphor for something by the way)

when I open my eyes to find ants…

tons and tons of ants…

ANTS! FUCKING ANTS!

ALL FUCKING OVER ME!!!

EVERYWHERE!!!

So, quite naturally I screamed and proceeded to bawl my eyes out while crazily trying to wash them from my body (in the stink-water I’d like to mention). Then I sort of started laughing but the crazy kind. The kind where you are one step away from passing out. And ya, that kept up for a while until I rinsed all the ants off and ran from the stinky shower, fell onto the bed in a naked heap of towel and skin, and proceeded to sob quietly. And yes, every so often I erratically burst into small fits of crazed giggles too.

I hate this house.

Apparently I put my hand in some ant fucking nest. I dunno, I’m not going in there to find out. But it smells still and I pray to whatever gods there may be that the smell IS the pipes and not the water/me. Ew.

So yes, I sort of lost it, but I really think I was entitled.

It’s been a hard year so far but I’m hoping tonight’s near-mental breakdown was rock bottom. I’m going up from now on I swear. I’m going to get my car fixed. Then I’ll find a house. Then I’ll buy a real car. Then I’ll do all that other shit I was working on before those two essential elements of my 20-something survival fell apart.

But for now, I’ll sleep. My heart has almost stopped racing.

That’s it, I’m so kicking ass now. Watch out world because I am so over this shit!

Goodnight!

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Meditations on Moving Furniture

I rearranged my furniture today for many sad reasons…

1. I’ve recently been attacked by spiders (I’m talking huge swelling welts on my legs — this is not at all exaggerated) and thought the deep, all-the-way-under-the-bed clean was a good way to go to get rid of them.

2. My room still smells a bit like a cat box and I thought the deep, all-the-way-under-the-bed clean was a good way to get rid of the odor.

3. The carpet is coming up in this one high-traffic area to the left of where my bed used to be and I wanted to cover it up.

4. For some reason I’ve always associated rearranging my room with life-altering  changes and making new starts.

It’s true. Rearranging furniture is a very spiritual journey for me. And, you know, if you’re getting eaten alive by spiders and breathing in year-old kitty litter residue its really not a bad idea to clean things up a bit. I mean, wow, that’s not just one but two poisons I removed from my life today. I’m probably going to live way longer now.

Okay, okay, I’m being silly. I think the moving furniture thing is just my way of controlling my space. Maybe I like rearranging things because it feels like I’m taking control of it. And by it I mean my room but (of course) also my life.

I dunno, I suppose there’s something to be said for nesting. It’s only natural to want to make a home for yourself. But why am I always changing mine?

To be honest I really don’t know. It probably has something to do with being in my 20s and without love. Or maybe I’m bored and it’s a Sunday and because it wasn’t sunny sunny today I couldn’t go to the beach. Then again, maybe I’m craving a larger change in my life, a change that’s too overwhelming to think about just yet, so I started pushing furniture around instead of doing something more constructive like, I dunno, writing a novel. (Ha!)

Hmm…You know, that’s probably it. Damn.

Aren’t blogs annoying? I dunno, about anyone else but they make me want to examine myself and my life and all the dumb meaningless things I do and assign them all meanings. But damn, if you can’t be self-involved in your blog where can you be?  (Well, a private journal I suppose but we won’t get into that.)

So here’s the bottom line–the spiders and the smell in my room are evidence of something. Evidence of how much I neglect certain fundamental parts of getting along in this world because (like many people) I’d much rather spend my time doing other things.

Things like going to beach, reading books, writing blogs, getting drunk, working out, making plans that I will probably never see through to the end… (and on and on and on and on).

Sigh, okay, moving on (and on and on and on and on)…

My plan = This.

Well, actually this:

I will enjoy my new furniture arrangement (which is kickass by the way) along with my enhanced health, sense of control, and er, purpose. But I won’t stop there. I’ll start looking for new, more constructive ways to take control of my life and start doing some more rearranging.

For instance, I should probably take my car to the shop. And my bike. And also go the doctor. (Which I haven’t done in over three years.) And also pay off my debt. And maybe I could learn how to, you know, have a budget and stuff.

Too bad none of that is nearly as much fun as moving my bed so that it’s diagonal from the window.