Cooperative Living June 2014 - 42

RURAL LIVING by Margo Oxendine, Contributing Columnist
HOME
INVASION:
To Arm, or
Be Disarming
was the victim of a home invasion
recently. While Brownie and I
were fast asleep, they sneaked in
with stealthy determination, in great
numbers.
We woke up happy, wagging our
tails. Everything seemed normal.
We hobbled into the kitchen and
noticed something awry, out of the
corners of our eyes.
The counter seemed to be moving.
An army of ants had discovered a
tiny drop of spilled coffee. Now, you
may know about me and my coffee. It
is strong. It is Cuban. It gets you
going with a fervor that lasts all day.
I could only imagine what an
invading army of ants, hopped up on
Cuban coffee, could accomplish. Ants
are hardy little creatures, capable of
lifting many times their negligible
weight.
I sprang into action and grabbed
the closest killer at hand: A bottle of
Windex. I strafed the spray across the
counter and stopped them in their
tiny tracks.
40
I
I rarely buy insecticide. And I certainly
would balk at spraying such
stuff on my kitchen counters. So,
when I encounter any small, crawling
creature, I spray them with the
nearest thing I can grab - Windex,
bathroom bubbles (that's sort of fun),
bleach, even hairspray. Doesn't matter
what it is; they're dead.
About the only commercial pest
killer I buy is hornet spray - the
kind that shoots a 30-foot stream.
Thirty feet is about as close as I want
to get to a hornet. Call me cruel if
you wish, but I love to watch them
writhe in death throes, their mean
little faces covered in white foam.
Soon enough - voila! - they're
dead.
I have, however,
learned not to pick
up a dead hornet for
disposal until long
after it has passed
this mortal coil. Even
then, I use a thick
paper towel. I have,
indeed, been stung
through a wispy
paper Kleenex.
It seems that every
spring and summer, a
different pest is more
prevalent than
others. I well recall
the Summer of the
Earwig. Oh my heavens,
but those earwigs
are nastythen
creep stealthily toward my trusty
can of hornet spray. Then, crouching
low, I'd hunt them down. (I don't
know if they're attracted to movement;
they seem devious and intelligent, in a
way.)
I'm afraid it's beginning to sound to
you as if I live in some sort of squalor.
I do not. I just blame it on living in the
country. Things can crawl or fly inside.
And then, they must be killed.
Please don't write to tell me how
helpful and/or harmless such things
can be. I do not want to hear it. I do
not care. I will not change my rather
sadistic ways.
Speaking of hornet spray, I have dis'I
could only
imagine what
an invading
army of ants,
hopped up on
Cuban coffee,
could
accomplish.'
looking little things. I
don't know if they are particularly
harmful, and I don't desire to find
out. I just plain don't like the looks
of them, and want them gone, gone,
gone.
One spring, a flock of smallish,
pale green grasshoppers decided to
take up residence in my bathroom.
I'm sure they weren't particularly
harmful, but that didn't mean I wanted
them sharing my shower.
Not long ago, there was an invasion
of huge hornets. Every darn
time I closed my eyes for a nap, or
sat down to read, I'd hear their loud,
menacing drone. I would cringe, and
covered an excellent use for it that may
surprise you. The same
summer the giant hornets
invaded, I had a
scary weirdo living
nearby. He seemed to
have set his sights on
me, creeping around
the yard at odd hours.
I'd sit in my chair by
the open window in the
dark of night and have
that eerie feeling - you
know what I mean -
that I was being
watched. It got so I was
afraid to get in bed and
close my eyes.
And then, brilliance
struck. I took to sleeping
with the big can of
hornet spray beside the
bed. I made sure before
I fell asleep that the nozzle was pointed
in the right direction. If the creepy
weirdo crept in, I was fully prepared -
indeed, relishing the thought - of
covering his face with the poison foam.
I do not own a firearm, although
I've heard they come in pink now,
which tempts me. But no. I am
content to know my lethal weapon
of choice - hornet spray - is always
close at hand. One of the tenets of my
life is this: If you can't be armed, be
disarming. 
To order Margo Oxendine's A Party of One,
email recorder@htcnet.org, or call 540-4682147
Monday-Thursday from 9-5.
Cooperative Living/June 2014
Cooperative Living June 2014

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