Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Suburban living has a way of magnifying inconsequential affairs, and things that any sane passerby would dismiss as minor tend to adopt epic significance. A mosquito might find its way into your home, for instance, and what ensues is a taut game of cat-and-mouse worthy of a Grisham bestseller. I’ve been playing this game myself recently and emerged the winner yesterday, though the cost was great: five painful welts, with one more than an inch in diameter.

It’s such a small insect, but damn it if quality of life didn’t dramatically decrease the last few days. Personally, I’m not opposed to sharing a bit of blood with a creature who needs it, especially if it’s, like, the one thing it eats. I have plenty to spare, after all. But it’s a slap in the face when you offer free food, only to be poisoned when you finish dispensing it. So I hunted the bastard, room to room. Didn’t go so far as to lure it, as I had to do last year, because luck favored me this time and I managed to trap it in a bathroom. And when the sonuvabitch landed on the door sill for a breather, I punched it. “Suck it! You dumb fucker,” I shouted exultantly, hoping it would appreciate the wordplay before it died.

With the AC working at full blast now and the mosquito threat temporarily neutralized, it’s time to move onto the next problem. Recently I’ve been finding a small black bag of doggie poo in my trash can every Wednesday, right after the garbage has been collected. I understand why it’s there, of course. Who wouldn’t find it convenient, with an empty can lining the curb, to get rid of Fido’s shit and continue a walk unencumbered?

This doesn’t sit well with me, however, because I’d rather not have pet waste marinating in my garage at 90 degrees Fahrenheit for a week, you know? I recall my old man regaling me with his solution to one neighborly dispute: slashing some tires in the dead of night–all four, to be specific–and as much as I admire the cojones required of this, I believe our generation is mandated to do one better than our elders. I need to devise a more elegant answer. The gears have been turning, as you can well imagine, and a plan shall be formulated shortly.