"Paranoia strikes deep, into your life it will creep." ("For What It's Worth" song by Buffalo Springfield, 1966.)
As irritating as those little boogers are, it was almost a relief when the squirrels started showing up one at a time yesterday. Evidently one of their number held out for caution at the war council instead of the all-out, full-scale attack I'd feared. They're smart little devils, though. They figured out that if they delay until Tessie, last in line, is on the stand they stand a better chance. Getting hit with milk from Sheila is significant, but pretty wimpy from Tess. The difference is like a fire hose and a water pistol. With Tessie's tiny orifices, I can't get the same pressure and the stream is more like a phffft. That's why it takes so much longer to milk her out for the same amount as Sheila. The furry gang also seemed to realize that if they waited long enough I would be leaving the barn and they could pillage to their heart's content. Believe me, I don't spend any more time under that metal roof than necessary. The delayed start also gave the mice a chance to grab a bite first.
Back in the house, I'm paranoid about ants. It's an annual event, but I never get used to it. They are mostly in the kitchen, but can show up anywhere. It's pretty alarming when an ant crawls across my glasses while they're on my face as it's magnified umpteen times and looks the size of a 747. I sometimes forget what I went into the kitchen for in the first place because I'm on ant watch. They'll show up in a tiny black train along the ceiling, along the baseboards, on the counters, under the upper cupboards, and on the windowsills. I'm armed with my squirt bottle of 409 and I shoot to kill. It's one way to clean house.
The heat seems to be on a roller coaster, spiking on the weekends and dropping a bit in the middle. It was particularly bad yesterday, so I had a good excuse to do nothing but watch NASCAR and sweat. And then I went to the store to buy ice cream for dinner. I was that desperate.