Ok, so – I get home from work and notice my shower curtain is ajar - which is unusual.

“Perhaps someone is in there,” I think and shove the entire curtain back, Clue-style (like when Miss Scarlet takes on the Ballroom drapery).

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But the GIANT CARPENTER ANT from Honey I Shrunk the Kids!

I’ve always had a slight problem at my condo with ants getting into my shower, so I strategically placed duct tape in those “entrances” to solve the problem. This dude? Plowed his way right in. I even felt a bit bad. He was so large that I almost felt ghetto for not rolling out a red carpet for him to make his shower entrance. 

So, now I have to kill the GIANT  ant with the pinchers. How do I proceed? Call dad!

I get Dad on the phone who finds this whole thing comical. “Knit him a saddle and ride him to work tomorrow,” he suggests. Not funny. I need to KILL this thing.

“Just think of it as killing a large pony.” STILL not funny, Dad.

He assures me that if I make a big enough wad of TP, I can snatch & squeeze the ant before he unleashes his pinchers on me. Nope. Not happening. It’s too big to even CONSIDER touching. Smacking it with a shampoo bottle seems like my only defense. So I ready, aim and FIRE the Garnier Fructis bottle at it and the ant falls into a mug full of water and my shed hair.

OK. I can just pick up the mug & dump it in the toilet. Pick up. Dump. Flush. Simple right? WRONG!

Does anyone remember my “little problem”? Yes – I have a fuzz phobia. Any free-floating fuzz frightens me. This includes my OWN shed free-falling hair.

So, now I’m REALLY panicking. As I dump the mug into the toilet, a woven hair ladder keeps the ant & the mug connected. My only hope, since Obi-Wan is not around, is to (gulp) actually touch my own soapy matted hairball. Eww!

Making whimpering sounds, I quickly try to unhook the hair ladder from the mug before Mr. Ant can climb his pinchered way up to my delicate hands!

After 3 tries, I FINALLY free the hair from the mug & flush the ant down 3 times, just to be sure he’s absolutely NOT going to be climbing up my toilet like an alligator.

I called my bro to relay the harrowing story only to hear him say, “What if the rest of the ant tribe comes looking for him?” Not. F*cking. Cool.

I resign myself by taking a sleeping pill and passing out. End of storytime with Ms. Mod.

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