Ok, so the other day we were getting ready to go buy fireworks and I ran into my office to shove my feet into Birkenstocks so we could go. A split second later I thought, Good Grief. Is nothing safe? How did the kids manage to get a pile of dirt in my shoe? I flipped the shoe over to knock the sand out of it AND A GREAT BIG WRITHING PILE OF DIGUSTING ANTS FELL OUT ALL OVER THE FLOOR.
WHAT I THOUGHT WAS A PILE OF SAND IN MY SHOE WAS A PILE OF ANTS IN MY SHOE. AND I PUT MY FOOT RIGHT ON IT.
MY BARE FOOT TOUCHED ANTS.
Even all caps is not enough to communicate the horror. THE HORROR. I can still feel it. I have some kind of post-traumatic-foot-skin-memory thing now.
Apparently Someone, who may or may not have been myself, spilled some potato chips on the floor and did not get every single one picked up. Apparently, one landed in my shoe. Apparently, the ants HEARD the chips hit the floor, intuited somehow that Someone is a less than thorough chip-picker-upper, and sent a PHALANX of warriors in to devour it.
Naturally, I screamed bloody murder and ran out into the garage where Jim was getting the kids buckled into the car, blithering like an idiot, “….RAID! ANTS! SHOE! ANTS! FOOT! RAID!…” I see the Raid, but can’t reach it because OBVIOUSLY we keep things like poison out of the reach of children and people not much taller than children.
The kids, strapped into their car seats like little Indy drivers, observe that mama is upset, and immediately do that Ack! Someone is upset! Now I am upset tooooooooooooo! thing and join me in the crying and snotting and arm-flailing.
Jim comes into the house to see what all the ruckus is (moving entirely too slow, in my opinion), and I make him get the vacuum cleaner and spray poison everywhere. I follow him around, continuing the story with incoherent half sentences and wild gestures toward my feet and my shoes and the big pile of (now dead) ants. At some point, I said, “I can’t believe you didn’t hear me yell and come in to save me!” and he goes, “Oh. Was that you? I thought I heard something.”
So NOW, not only am I completely traumatized by this whole ant-foot situation, I ALSO realize that in the event of an emergency, my knight-in-shining-armor will pause, then shrug dismissively.