Last weekend the antmind temporarily took over my master bathroom. Thanks to perseverance and enough bugspray to float a battleship, I retook the disputed territory about fifteen minutes after they planted the flag. Yet spring is coming; this is only round 1. I’m thinking about tenting the house and letting off the formicidean equivalent of a nuclear warhead inside.
Take that, antmind.
Maybe I should send to Brazil for some zombie fungus. Apparently entomologists have discovered varieties of fungi that invade ants and take over their brains. The fungus forces the ant to forsake its colony and go hang itself under a leaf. Then the fungus sprouts all kinds of growths from the ant’s head and knees, attaching itself to the foliage and essentially turning the ant into a mushroom.
So I’m thinking this could come in REALLY handy around my house. I could mix up some Brazilian zombie fungus with a little maple syrup or chocolate, stick it where the ants are sure to find it, and next thing you know I have a mushroom farm growing on the rhododendrons.
Of course, with my luck, the zombie fungus will decide that the rhodies are really too far to travel, so that I wake up one morning to find garlands of ant mushrooms all over the bedcurtains.
Hmmm. Zombie fungus that worked on people might explain a lot of things in the news. Wonder if some day we discover that Sarah Palin has turned into the world’s biggest portobello…nope. Don’t go there.
I pondered it, though, as I examined evidence that Nate the mouse is still hanging around the living room (really, I don’t know why I don’t hang a big WELCOME TO THE ZOO sign on the front door and charge admission). So, sighing, I’ve hauled out the humane mousetrap for one more try.
It hasn’t worked so far, but I’m blaming the peanut butter. I was using a high-end variety with ground flax seed, organically grown peanuts and hazelnuts and cashews and all kinds of good stuff, and Nate just wasn’t interested. Now I’ve found a “children’s spread” of honey and peanut butter that might appeal to his sweet tooth, so we’ll see.
If that doesn’t work, I’ve read that Skippy’s reduced fat peanut butter may have salmonella, so Unilever is recalling supplies in at least sixteen states. Mine isn’t one of them, but I was thinking…what if I call a buddy in New Jersey or wherever, and ask them to ship me a salmonella-enriched jar of Skippy? Do mice even GET salmonella?
If Nate and his buddies get bad cases of salmonella, will they begin referring to my house as “that place where everybody got sick right after dinner,” complain to the department of mouse health (which then classifies my house as mouse-UNfriendly), and go off in search of a better restaurant? I can recommend several fine establishments.
Heck, I’d even drive ’em over. Wearing a little chauffeur hat. (I think there’s a children’s story in here somewhere)
Trying to think out of the box here. If Nate and I can’t come up with a mutually satisfactory solution, i.e., he doesn’t live in my house and I don’t kill him, the next step is…the cat.