Creepy crawlies

I said to my husband, "I've killed three ants in the last few days—the big black ones. Really big ones."

He wasn't alarmed and said, "They come in on our clothes."

I settled for that.

The next day I reported to him, that I saw another big ant in the larder.

"Did you kill it?" he asked.

"No. The little blighter was too speedy for me. It disappeared down a crack between a shelf and outside wall"

He said, "H-m-m. I don't think there's anywhere they can get in."

"You don't think like an ant. They're in." I replied

I'm squeamish about insects and crawly things, inside and out. Later that day I was prepared with rake and bucket to clean out a corner where I'd potted plants, and what did spy but big black ants scudding about.

I moved quickly to the interior of the house to report my finding to you-know-who.

"They're in the corner where I had my pots. Do you have anything to kill them?" I asked.

He'd played golf that day and was resting in front of the TV. Actually he was in a deep nap and didn't jump for joy at the idea of having to take care of the crawleys.

I stayed inside while he went to the garage for his killing potion and put my clean up off to another time.

What I did do was scan the white walls of the lower level for moving black spots, armed and ready with Kleenex. My hunt was fruitless.

I checked the ant area outside before going to bed and saw nothing big or ant-like moving. I rested well that night, thanks to my husband.

Dealing with ants, big, small, black or red, is an on-going summer thing.

In the 50s we lived in California for a short spell. Periodically colonies of small red ants trooped along the kitchen counter of the house we lived in.

We let them go their way as my husband, who didn't panic at the sight, explained that they had traveled that route long before our house was built.

Some mornings we found many had died a sweet death in the sink, where Kool Aid glasses from the previous nights refreshment were stacked.

Ants are insects that don't give me the shudders, as long as I have a Kleenex on hand to grab them before they scamper out of sight. Spiders, worms and snakes are a different matter.

Small spiders I can dispose of the same way as ants, with a Kleenex. Big spiders, the ones with six-inch legs attached to round two-inch bodies send cold chills along my spine before I'm numbed.

In this area of Montana I've not seen Big ones like those in Australia and England.

A time when I stayed with my English sister a Big spider was on the wall above my bed. I yelled, "Joan!" She dashed into the room. "What's the matter?" she asked. I pointed to the blob above the bed.

"Oh that's no problem" she said, and calmly went downstairs. She returned with a broom and dustpan.

"What are you going to do with that?" I asked.

"Get him and take him outside."

"Don't you have some bug spray?"

"I don't want to kill him," she said, as she reached with the broom to sweep him into the pan.

Her aim wasn't the best. She missed. Big spider scooted across my bed and disappeared behind a dresser.

"I think I'll sleep on the couch tonight" I told her. My voice had the shakes.

"Don't be silly. Harold won't hurt you. He's been with us for a long time and hasn't bitten anyone yet."

I didn't sleep well that night and I didn't have spider dreams. If I had, the next morning Joan would have found me downstairs on the couch.

For protection from wiggly worms I wear gloves when I'm gardening. A time when gloves are not the thing to wear is when one is using worms to bait a hook on the end of a fishing line.

My husband took me fishing. . . once.

We rode horseback with another couple into a small lake at the head of the Eastfork in the Bitterroot Valley. My initiation to being the fishree instead of the watcheree happened in 1948 four years after my feet came in contact with this land of shining mountains towering over ice cold streams and lakes where fish waited for a worm on a hook.

On a raft in the center of the lake my husband handed me a fish pole. "You bait the hook," he said. I looked at the can of worms and than at him. My expression I'm sure was utter shock.

"If you're going to fish you bait your own hook. You also take your catch off the hook and gut it."

I did as he instructed. . . once.

A snake, that I haven't seen for along time resided in our yard, it was bout two feet long and slim. The problem was that I didn't know where it would slither from. It sheltered under leaves and slid between my feet when I least expected. I'd yell and jump up and down like a cat on hot bricks.

After it ambushed me more than once I became cautious and checked my work area thoroughly before it made a sudden appearance.

I'll take ants, even big black ones over spiders and slimy worms any day. Ants even when squished aren't oozy.

With spray or Kleenex I can zap the daylights out of small insects, and call on hubby to deal with the big ones.

Worms, as long as my fingers are covered, with a shudder I'll deal with. I haven't seen the snake for a couple of years. It could have moved to quieter quarters.

My life is calmer for the time being without crawleys in the house and I don't have to keep an eye out for the slitherer.