Wrath of God

What a strange summer it has been so far... first of all, we had a clogged sewer line. I know, whoopidedoo, no biggie. It sucks when it's you though, believe me. All of a sudden one Friday night, we didn't have any water leaving the house. Turn on the washing machine, it drains all over the floor. Turn on the kitchen sink, it fills up. As a single person, it would be an inconvenience, as a father... well, try explaining it to your three year old when he desperately want to flush for some reason. I think deep down, he feels a sense of accomplishment when he flushes. "Ahh, another successful trip to the bathroom. Nothing on my leg, nothing in the magazine rack, butt wiped, now to close the deal, a flush. Maybe two, just to be safe. Maybe I'll flush this dinosaur while I'm in here..." So for ten minutes, I explain in the simplest terms I can muster, and still, as if he is consumed by an OCD moment, he reaches for the handle. So as a closer, I say "Sam, the potty is broken" ... which is what I should have said in the beginning, because he says, "ok dad" and walks out. Anyway, four hours and $260 later our water is running again, but I continue to go to the bathroom at our neighbors house, because they have nicer toilet paper, and its funny.
Next, some main cable breaks - and we lose our phone service for 22 days. Believe it or not (because I have a cell) it takes me three days to even notice. Still, its a pain.
A week or so later, as if our utilities had had some secret meeting and decided that we suck, there is a wicked storm and our power goes out... for a loooooong time. I go to sleep, the power is out. I wake up, out. Go shopping, out. Go to work, out. You get my drift.
Finally, after lighting some bundles of sage to purify the wiring, saying a few prayers out loud (I made them up, but they sounded official - don't tell the utilities) then standing out in the street and threatening the house with a stick - everything started working again. All is Kosher for a few days until...
The ants. Wee little kitchen ants. A few at first, and then, after they decided there were 80,000 of them and I only had two good squashin' fingers, they moved in as if my kitchen counters were the beaches in Normandy. In the sink, on the walls, even in the dishwasher... and I couldn't get rid of them. Even after I'd do a load of dishes, there would be ants with the teeniest little white towels you've ever seen wrapped around their waists taking a steam in the drying cycle. Relentless. After shortening my lifespan applying three different poisons unsuccessfully, I finally found something that worked (some liquid bait called Terro) and within a few days they were gone. A little sad though. When the last few worker ants in the house were drunkenly staggering up the wall after feeding the whole nest poison for two days, they almost looked... I dunno... disappointed in me.
Anyway, at the moment everything is in working order. There were locusts covering my car this morning, and a small river of blood in the back yard, but nothing is actually wrong with the house, so I just let it go.
By the way - if you recognize this guy pictured above, I talked to him the other day via email very briefly, and you know what? Still sounds like Jason, still love him.