It’s been an “exciting” week here in The Delawder Matthews House, some of it being “FUN,” and some of it being “Absolute Hell.” Earlier this week I came home to Brenna’s revolving food bowl being swarmed by minuscule ants, something that has never happened before. Those little pests are hard to get rid of. The big ants can be treated with TERRO, but the little ones are immune for some unapparent reason. Guess who’s not immune to TERRO though? Darling, sweet, adventurous Brenna finds that they make great toys to play with. B.O.B. Bob came around the hallway corner one morning to discover her licking her paws after playing with one, which she had managed to spill all over the place. After running after her for a few minutes, and then trying to persuade her to venture out from underneath the bed, he brought her at arm’s length distance down to me to deal with. I had just gotten out of the shower, and was wrapped in only a towel, when I was handed a very upset kitty and told the story of what she had been up to. We immediately tried to put her in the bathroom sink and wash her, but I’m guessing you can imagine just how well that went. The brat hasn’t had a bath in nine years, because both of us would rather shoot ourselves in the foot first. After bath denial, I grabbed a washcloth, loaded it up with hand soap, and rubbed the little fighter down. She was still not happy about that, but with her Mommy practically sitting on her, and her Daddy trying to hold all of her fighting paws at one time in a grip-like vise, she really didn’t have any choice.
We’re not sure if she actually got any of the TERRO on or in her, but she seemed to survive the day, and doesn’t seemed to be any worse for wear from the experience. Now we’re just trying to get rid of the ants. I have cinnamon sprinkled everywhere, after being told that it works wonders. Not so much so far, the little soldiers seem to be taking it in stride as they crawl all over her bowl still. For now, we’re kicking it old school, and feeding Brenna out of a small food dish in the kitchen, away from the onslaught. This is driving B.O.B. Bob quickly to the point of wanting to ring Brenna’s little neck. “Bless Her Heart!” She thinks that she should be fed any time we enter the kitchen. All food bowl rules have been forgotten. From 3:00 in the morning on, she sits in the bedroom screaming. Presumably she is slowly wasting away to nothing, and we have no concern for her suffering. After several days of no sleep, we are ready for an end to this nonsense, and she may be spending a night or two in time-out if things don’t change. I love that furry little psycho, but I can only take so much. Cross your fingers that the cinnamon starts to have some effect soon, or someone in this house might not survive.
So now onto the “FUN” part of this past week. Meet Harry Connick, my new 2014 Beetle. After several years of discussing whether or not to buy me a new car, B.O.B. Bob finally decided it was time to bite the bullet. My 2005 Jetta is still in great condition, but needed some things fixed on it that would have cost us a small fortune. I love my VW’s, but when they start costing $2,000 every year to maintain, it’s time to move on. My loving and dotting B.O.B. Bob spent a major amount of time this week looking at cars, trying to get the best deal, and spending time at the dealership haggling with salespeople and managers. All I had to do was pick a color, and come home one day to find my new car waiting for me. I definitely got the better end of this deal. I’m loving my new little race-car, and trying to get used to all of its new little quirks. For those of you wondering about the name of the car, it’s derived from a longstanding joke between B.O.B. Bob and I. After the first year or so of our dating, he asked me to marry him while on the way to the grocery store to buy toilet paper. I quickly responded with a, “Hell No!” I then elaborated by telling him that was not the way to ask a girl to spend the rest of their life with you. A girl wants a guy who is going to get down on one knee and make it a special occasion, and that my idea of special was a classic VW Beetle sitting in the driveway, with a ring in the glove box, and Harry Connick, Jr. playing through the radio. It’s been a longstanding joke of ours, that most of our close friends and family know about, so I’m sorry if any of you assumed this week that a new VW named Harry Connick meant that we are engaged. It’s just a car folks; a wonderful, new, sparkly car, which my man is so wonderful to have bought for me. So let’s give it up to B.O.B. Bob this week for being so AMAZING. “Yah B.O.B. Bob!”…”Bad Brenna!”
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