I have joined a fantastic group of ladies, who are involved in a weekly blog project. Every Thursday, we will dazzle you with our insight on various topics. And each week, we take turns coming up with the idea for the blog topic. Please check out their blogs as well, listed under my Blogroll section. Just click on:
Froggie (Tracey): An experiment in knitting, writing- and life
Merry Land Girl (Melissa): Tales of a suburban mom who likes to talk about pop culture, books, Judaism, family, friendship and anything else that comes to mind.
Mom Of Many (Susanna): One Mom’s perspective on life, raising kids, knitting and other unrelated topics.
For this week, Susanna chose: “Share your worst vacation experience.”
I can probably recall a few of those moments. It seems me and trouble often go hand in hand. Wherever I go, I attract bad weather, bugs, or accidents. I can’t put my own two feet in front of me, without tripping over them!
The first experience that popped into my head however, was the trip Kevin and I went on last year, for our anniversary. We found a cabin out in Iowa, located in Loess Hills. It was secluded and away from it all, which is what we were looking for. The cabin really was fantastic, and had everything you needed. A kitchen, a bathroom… even a small tv that didn’t get reception, but neither of us cared. My older boy was staying with his dad for the weekend, and we were ALL ALONE.
We arrived Saturday morning, spending the day doing what we normally couldn’t with a 5 year old around. We watched movies on the laptop. We laid out in the sun (I was 6 months pregnant at the time, so that didn’t last long). We played card games. I am sure we did some unmentionables in there as well. Like I said, anything we could do without a 5 year old around.
As evening rolled around, clouds started to form. It was getting more humid. It looked as though a storm was coming. Kevin and I both shrugged it off. Living in Nebraska, we are used to summer storms. No big deal. I was standing in the kitchen, cutting up peaches, and felt something tickle the top of my foot. Glancing down, I discovered it was an ant. One of those big carpenter ants. I don’t mind insects, but something about ants has always creeped me out. I grabbed a paper towel, and smooshed it, throwing it away in the garbage can. Over the course of a few hours, I’d seen a few more here and there, but nothing to get alarmed about.
Time for bed! Both of us were ready. It was very dark out now, and the sky was still heavy with clouds, and the wind had picked up. I lumber into the back bedroom, and discover ants. Ants all over. Ants on the floor. Ants on the walls. The back bedroom had a door leading outside. Ants coming in through the door. Ants on the ceiling. Ants on the bed. But where this tired, swollen, pregnant mama drew the line was when she discovered ants IN the bed. Backing out, I notice more on the floor in the hallway. It was like the old children’s song: “Step on a crack, and you’ll break your mother’s back.” Well, in this case, it was “step on an ant…” They were EVERYWHERE. In the spare bedroom, the bathroom, the kitchen, the living room. My first instinct was to go crazy on their little asses, and grab paper towels and start immediate genocide. I was killing tons of them, but more kept coming. I’d get rid of 20, and 30 more seemed to appear from out of nowhere. Kevin and I were beside ourselves. A few ants is one thing, but not this many! And not IN YOUR BED!
By this time, it was close to two in the morning. We both knew the ants had won. Most likely, they were seeking shelter from the storm, and decided the cabin was a nice, cozy way to do that. Kevin and I decided to pack our shit, and get the hell out of town. We drove the 90 minutes back home, trying to dodge the storm that had been alluding us all night.
We didn’t get to sleep over. We didn’t get to wake up Sunday morning surrounded by nature. But we did get to wake up in our own bed, not covered by carpenter ants. That to me is enjoying the finer things in life!