The Ants Come Marching In

9 Dec

It’s 1:30 in the morning.  My son just woke me up from a deep sleep to tell me we have an ant infestation in the kitchen.  Ugh.  Couldn’t it have waited until morning?  I mean, seven or eight o’clock morning.

Groggily, I put out the ant bait and retreat to bed once more.  And then…it gets me.  Reality.  Coming off a writer’s high, this brought me down and threatens to take me out.  Am I in fantasy land or the real world with this writing stuff?  Fairy tale or realism?  Visions of sugar plums or pesky insects?

Those darn ants are messing with my head.  They remind me that no matter how spiritual, or soulful, or optimistic I may be…there are always ants.  So in this complex head of mine, I ponder the chicken or the egg debate.  Without a chicken there couldn’t be an egg?  Or was it the other way around?  Oh wait, that’s the wrong debate.

Go away ants.  I’m tired of all this clucking.  And come on tomorrow…I feel the need to write.



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