It is said that, if you cannot say something nice about someone or something, you should not say anything at all. I am going to violate that bit of wisdom this morning. I cannot for the life of me find a single good thing to write or say about termites.
For the third time, these nasty little beasts have invaded my home. As was true during the two previous invasions, they did not announce themselves. You’d think they would at least have the grace to send some sort of advance notice of their arrival. No, they just showed up one day and got right down to the business of eating my house. They did have the decency to start in the kitchen.
They have, for some time now, been quietly making a meal of the frame around the kitchen window. It looks to me that they have eaten about a third of it. We actually found them doing their work last year and promptly put out a hit on them. What we did not know at that time was these lousy $^%!!@&(*) had located their den of iniquity below our slab foundation where the poison we laid for them would not reach. We’re on to them though. Today is the day of their demise (actually we have already laid a few to rest – the exterminator sprayed the ones he could see a few days ago and I bravely squashed a few with my bare hands. Fifty dead, 998,842 to go). A way has been found to get the poison where the nest is. At noon today, another termite horde will meet its end and a house will be saved from being turned into a termitic (is that a word?) hamburger.
I recognize that these little denizens of the dirt are just doing their job. It is their function within the natural order of things to eat dead wood and so return it to soil. I just wish they would not pursue MY house to do it. Of course, they have thus far made no appearance at any of my neighbor’s houses. Figures I would have the best tasting wood around. Well, Mr. and Mrs. Termite, my house is not a burger stand and you aren’t getting it your way.