Having Some Spring with my Coffee

Contrary to what I really wanted last week along with my lingering nasty head congestion and stomach virus, I had termites and carpenter ants with my morning cup of joe. The best coffee in the world couldn’t make any creeping crawling thingy within 50 yards of my house forgettable, unless it was sweetened with Irish crème. In which case, I would probably forget my name.

I should have told the nice Etymologist salesperson from Terminix he didn’t need to worry about the close. We planned to treat the house even if he didn’t see evidence of termites, ants or creeping bugs. But, Ed made him work for the sale. We also received a free flash course about termites and ants. (The test came later.) Did you know the lifespan of a termite queen is thirty years! I’m thinking of adding cellulose to my morning coffee.

The technician arrived to treat the property with 200+ gallons of spray, which also turned out to be the test –  how long a Terminix tech could push my buttons. After he explained the plan for 30 minutes, he set off with his sprayer gadgets to exterminate. I smiled and sat down at my desk to work. But, the tech knocked on the door.

"The gates are both locked," he said.

He couldn't climb over the fence, of course. I located a key, put on my shoes, unlocked a gate, traipsed back inside, washed my hands, filled my coffee mug and sat down at my desk to work. He knocked on the door again.

"I need to drill holes in the deck, do you want them plugged?" he asked.

After addresing the holes, I returned to my desk and tried to pick up where I left off. Yup, another knock.

"Just wanted to tell you I put the carpet back down on the deck for you," he said.

I called Ed at work and suggested he might want to come home to take pictures and answer the door every 15 minutes. Alright, I didn’t mention the door part.

Normally, I’m a patient and friendly individual. A stuffed head, aching body, two cups shy of normal coffee quota, laundry, phone calls, loud drilling noises and interruptions every 15 minutes makes me less than jovial.  Yanking on my hair would have felt more productive than answering the door every few minutes.

When I heard another knock, I prayed as I followed the worn path on my carpet. Imagine the thrill of seeing my hero on the stoop with camera in hand when I flung open the door!

The following two hours of coffee slurping, interruption free, allowed me to pour immense energy into a picture book manuscript. I only lost one key on my keyboard. I felt such relief, next time I opened the door and saw those holes the tech drilled into my front stoop? Well, I didn’t pass all the way out when I gasped. And the fresh air reminded me Spring had sprung. Which is really what I wanted to have with my coffee all week anyway.