The Plague

August 11, 2006, the evening started out nicely. My husband, son and I had received tickets to a Texas Rangers’ baseball game.  We enjoyed a Rangers’ win while devouring funnel cakes.

It was late when we returned home, and instead of walking a few more steps into our bedroom, my husband and I fell asleep on the couch. I awakened around 2 A.M. and decided to go to bed.

As I walked into the bedroom, I saw a few ants traveling from the bathroom. I went into the bathroom to find ants coming out of the closet. With closer inspection, I found hoards of ants in the closet. I froze in a state of shock. How did these ants enter our home? Why are they here? Where is each and every one of them? And most importantly, are these fire ants?

Coming to my senses, I grabbed a roll of toilet paper, and began smashing ants. After a few minutes I realized I needed more help than a single roll of toilet paper could give.

I went to awaken my husband who was still sleeping soundly on the couch.

“We have a problem and I need your help,” I calmly said, while inside I was screaming, “Help! We are being invaded!”

It took my husband a few minutes to rouse himself as I quietly explained the horror taking place in the sanctuary of our bedroom, bathroom and closet. He arose to check it out for himself.

Being his normally laid-back self, he observed the situation, and then went outside to find the ants’ place of entry. With further inspection, he found the ants’ home and methodically treated the ant mound. When he finally came back inside to peacefully update me on his progress, I firmly informed him to hurry and help me remove the contents of the closet.

I didn’t know where to begin. Ants filled my shoes and covered clothes I had draped over a storage container. These ants were having the time of their lives investigating all of my belongings. Shoe by shoe, piece by piece, I removed each ant. Some ants met their destiny by smashing and some by drowning in the bath tub.

My husband sprayed the closet and watched the ants as they became lethargic and gave up the ghost. He was entertained by the entire event while I was doing my best not to run away and hide. Sensing my struggle, he graciously removed objects covered in so many ants, I could not bring myself to touch them.

After 2 hours, the closet was empty. Only disgusting piles of dead ants remained.

We decided it was safe to get some rest, so my husband crawled into bed. I went back to the couch; it was a safer distance from the crime scene, and I couldn’t be sure there weren’t some stray ants lurking nearby.

Later, when I awakened, I slowly approached the previous area of terror. After close inspection, I found 3 wandering ants which I quickly disposed of.

As I pondered the early morning experience, I wondered why God didn’t use fire ants as one of the plagues of Egypt. I felt certain Pharaoh would have let the people go in the very beginning if God had sent in the fire ants.

It took days to forget about the ant invasion. I resolved to keep a cleaner closet. No more tossing things here and there. I would no longer stack clothing, but I would promptly put them back onto the hanger from whence they came. My shoes would sit neatly, side by side.

After living in Texas for close to a year, I had received over half a dozen fire ant bites. Thankfully I didn’t get a single bite that morning. Fire ants are ferocious creatures that can change the course of a life, even the cleanliness of a closet.