As I write this I am scratching my head and knocking loose the remaining grains of sand in my scalp from yesterday's lack-luster beach volleyball game. Lest anyone claim I am filthy please allow me to add that the game was played TWO SHOWERS AGO, and still the evidence remains (and this includes two applications of my extra-strength Selsun Blue) (And yes, I did lather, rinse, AND repeat). This is just the latest, and most itchy, example of the omnipresence of sand in all aspects of my life. It is always on the linoleum tile that constitutes the floor of our humble abode. It has been seen inside every car I have had the pleasure of traveling in on the island. Even within the cars of the most anal of automotive enthusiasts it is still present in ash trays, coin boxes, cup holders. At work sand is constantly trying to reclaim my some-what sodded athletic field. Despite the best efforts of the grounds crew at Ross to weed and water the land, they are no match for the ever-creeping beach as it attempts to remake island in its image. I am not complaining or questioning its presence, but merely wanting to show its power to the uninitiated. A day without sand is a day off island.
And then there were ants. On a daily basis I have the direction and quality of my life influenced by two types of ants; fire and sugar. Clever names. The fire ants can be found in the states, as well. Their name stems from the burning feeling one gets after getting bit by the creature. Their size is not representative of the level of discomfort to be had from their bite. Despite being small in stature they are aggressive and painful; the intensity of the burning is quite the experience. have you not had the pleasure of witnessing their living habits?! YOU, my friend, are in luck. Come down to my athletics field where fire ants can be seen in their natural habitat, in abundance. The very same field on which I attempt to show children as young as 5 the pleasures of physical exertion and organized sports. Why, just the other day I had the pleasure of a 6 year-old approaching me in tears, screaming unintelligibly while swiping at their legs because of an encounter. A quick scooping up of the lad, sprint up the hill, and dousing with water from the gardener's spigot was all he needed to be right as rain. rest assured he'll never want to play outside again.
Sugar ants, from what I understand, are found through out the Caribbean, but maybe by other names. These ants are very small and don't pack a bite, they just hassle you and complicate your life. Sugar ants received their name because of their love of all things sweet and/or moist. You may remember them from such hits as; Your Bathroom Sink, Your Counter Top, Crawling Inside Your Bowl of Sugar When All You Wanted Was a Cup of Effing Coffee Before Going to Class, Crawling up Your Back while You Sit on the Toilet, and many more. They are every where. And, again, despite their lack of stature, they can not be stopped. Efforts to limit them (eradication is out of the question) are met with contempt. If you smush one under your finger, a row of them will walk around the digit and laugh at you. Try setting out ant traps, and they will be graffitied by morning. I tried spraying a row of them with poison (which will probably kill me before it does them) and I discovered the next day that my car had been keyed. It read "Resistance is Futile". Think about the planning and coordination that must have gone into an effort like that.
