Friday, January 8, 2010

Of Mice and Maggots

This story starts during our trip in America.  Matt and I were traversing through the beautiful aisles of Target, a simple pleasure on American soil that I have come to value greatly since moving to Cape Town, when we received a phone call.  Apparently there was a waterfall coming down the stairs of our apartment complex that was originating from our front door.  Who knew a small leak from the hose of a washing machine could create such a deluge after weeks of neglect?  Thankfully, a few of our friends raced over to our flat, opened our flat, turned off the water, and cleaned up the mess.  We have tile floors, luckily, so nothing was damaged except for the wood under our cabinets.  

Fast forward to two weeks after arriving back in Cape Town.  

As I'm sitting in the silence of a beautiful summer afternoon, I notice ants in our lounge.  Now, I don't have a particular problem with ants.  If I see them in my house, I don't kill them.  They never hurt me, so I don't hurt them.  They just follow each other in a line, one by one, like a class of third graders going to lunch or to the water fountain after recess.  So, I leave them be.  

But ants usually don't come into my lounge; they usually scout around on the tile floor.  It seemed interesting to me that they'd venture over into our little lounge.  I go into the hallway only to discover that I don't have a line of well-behaved third grader ants, I have what looks like a swarm of panicked ants.  No, these ants look like an army about to take over my home.  This little ant nation had crossed a line, and I was not about to just sit there passively.  

I quickly got out the mop.  These little guys were in for an untimely demise.  So there I go like a crazy woman with some vendetta, killing these ants and washing them down the drain.  All of the dirt that didn't stick to my heavy-duty mop I piled up in the center of my tile floor.  'Job well done,' I thought to myself, as  I went for the dust pan to sweep up any jailbreak ants.  

Then, in my little pile of debris, I, not rice.  The rice was moving.  Moving rice?  Inchworm rice?  It took a few seconds of watching the swollen pieces of rice frantically inching themselves away from my debris pile for me to realize that these new creatures were, in fact, maggots.  


Yes...maggots in my house.  

Well, then I went on a killing spree, Rambo style.  I took my flip flop off and began banging these little guys into oblivion.  How dare they take up residence in flat C302?!

I eventually put it all together and realized that the wood that had gotten wet from our washing machine hose fiasco had been the perfect breeding ground for little maggots, and my vigorous mopping had ousted them from their hiding place.  

And all of this really begs the question, why so many ants?  Apparently they knew about the unwelcome visitors long before I did.  They were carrying them off for an afternoon snack. Africa's circle of life displayed before my very eyes (cue Lion King theme song)!

*Note concerning title: I must give credit where credit is due.  As I discussed my plans for this blog with my dad, he came up with the brilliant title!  Catchy, isn't it?

1 comment:

  1. that's absolutely disgusting

    the stupidest part - your philosophy on ants. rachel, you're a moron. kill them. always. no matter if they were trying to eat your maggots.

    the best part - picturing you with a shoe trying furiously to smash maggots. that's my favorite. i wish i could've been there just for that.