And there was me, ready to get on with other stuff this evening... After work, I popped over to Foyles to pick up a birthday present for my father, with a list of shopping in my pocket for last-minute groceries I need for work this week, to pick up once I got back home...
...Then it all started to go terribly, terribly wrong.
It started innocently enough, with a series of three trains being diverted toward Heathrow on the Piccadilly Line. This meant I was about an hour later getting home than I would have been if I'd just come straight home the normal way. No great shakes there, to be honest.
The shopping was easy enough to accomplish but, naturally, I'd not brought a shopping bag with me, so I had to make use of those proffered at checkout. Even that's not a massive disaster, because I can always reuse shopping bags as bin liners.
Where it actually went terribly, terribly wrong was when I cast my eyes sinkwards in my kitchen, for to consider the eternal question of whether to wash up before or after dinner, and saw moving things.
Specifically, ants.
Now, I've been pretty bloody vigilant of late, possibly bordering on the obsessive - constantly checking the floors, walls, ceilings... little cracks and dark corners - looking to ensure that my ant problem is over and to see if there's any sign of where they all came from.
I may have caught a lucky break this evening.
Several of the little critters were congregating around the overflow of the sink, so that got a whole load of ant spray. In the end, I had to wash the entire sink area before I felt comfortable making dinner (even though I had, coincidentally, picked up something that barely needed cooking) and, as I write, I'm eating the dinner I only prepared a few minutes ago.
This does not bode well for a good night's sleep.
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