"From this hour I ordain myself loos'd of limits and imaginary lines, going where I list, my own master total and absolute, Listening to others, considering well what they say, Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating, Gently, but with undeniable will, divesting myself of the holds that would hold me."
Walt Whitman (1819-92)
"When I look back now over my life and call to mind what I might have had simply for taking and did not take, my heart is like to break."
Akhenaton (d. c.1354 BC)
And now, the current weather, from some random person we pulled off the street:
Thursday, October 28, 2004
in-fest Function: transitive verb
Etymology: French infester, from Latin infestare, from infestus hostile
1 : to spread or swarm in or over in a troublesome manner
2 : what you really don't want insects to do to your stuff
It was as bad as I had ever seen it. Anywhere.
I had opened the door of our popup camper to get something out, and what greeted me was a mass of crawling insects that covered the floor.
A few weeks ago, we began having a very serious problem with little black "sugar ants" in our home. These things are insidious. They walk with impunity through walls, through furniture and cabinets, and into plastic bags and containers, their appetite for sugar never sated.
It got to the point that they were everywhere. Usually we would see them for a couple of weeks and they would go away, but not this time. This time they had declared war on us.
I mixed up a concoction of borax and syrup, and fed that to them. They lined up to fill themselves with the lethal mix, taking it back to their nest. Soon, no more ants.
Or so I thought.
A couple of weeks later, I opened up an old car in our driveway that we were going to get rid of. Inside the door, ants by the hundreds. All under the carpet, everywhere. We dropped in a bug bomb and closed the door. No more ants.
Or so I thought.
Yesterday I found the colony in our camper. So, this afternoon, we set it up to clean it out and kill the ants.
You could have filled cups with the ants we killed. I'm not kidding. Everywhere we looked...along the seals, on the canvas, in the bedclothes, in the cabinets. We sprayed and sprayed and sprayed.
I am sure we got them, this time.
Or so I think...
The art of war is simple enough. Find out where your enemy is. Get at him as soon as you can. Strike him as hard as you can, and keep moving.
Ulysses S. Grant
US general & politician (1822 - 1885)