Tag Archive: kitchen

The darndest things can spur writing.

Tonight I cleaned the bathroom sink drain (for the umpteenth time) and our dishwasher drain (for the first time).  The first effort was habitual; the second was exploratory.  Thanks go to mom for the Drain Snake(tm) and the Tennessean Dollar General store at which she surely purchased that handy little stocking stuffer in late December.

so much depends upon a white childproof latch

What got me to the keyboard at quarter past 11 p.m. is what I did after I finished my domestic foray: I removed the childproof latch to our kitchen cabinet sink.  Simple enough task … flathead screwdriver … turn turn turn <plink> … turn turn turn … turn turn <plink> . Done.

But it was the thought process behind removing that blessed little white plastic work of engineering genius: our son is old enough that we don’t need it. And other than frustrating adults, the little lock most likely can’t thwart any more little Hambrick fingers.

With several friends expanding their nuclear/familial child to adult ratio recently, of course we’ve considered following suit.  And had we leaned more toward revisiting the lands of poopy diapers, then perhaps I wouldn’t’ve offed the lock.

But I did.  And it’s all good.

So, the kitchen at our house of worship was recently overrun by ants.

Being nonviolent as can be, someone (not me) wrote a note, which thanked the ants for their “wonderful service” and asked them to return outside, and placed a few copies on the kitchen counter. While amazingly effective at times (no, really, it does work…at times) and not as direct a method as Amdro or a shoe, we—collectively—kept leaving food and crumbs out, giving the ants reason not to return outside. I mean, if somebody put chocolate cake on the table and
then asked me to leave…well, there’s reason enough to stay.

Amdro Advertising -- Good stuff.

Amdro Advertising -- Good stuff.

Given their confusion and frustration, the ants conveyed their thoughts in a letter, below, which conveys their stance on this issue. (I have this image of them jumping up and down on the keys, pushing the mouse around en masse.) Following their missive, I’ve penned a response to them.

And I might just print a few copies and leave it on the counter…not for them, but us.

Their letter

Dear Members of the Center,
We really enjoyed reading your letter explaining your situation in the kitchen. We were moved by your sincerity but would like to point out a few things.

1.  God created us to clean up the environment.  That means God sent us to eat all the crap you leave lying around in God’s kitchen.

2.  The ground that your kitchen is built on originally belonged to our ancestors, and we were never remunerated for its value.  So, please think of our sharing of your food as a little down payment.  Actually, you should be paying us for cleaning up after you.

3. We tried to offer our “wonderful service” outside, but guess what, it is hot as hell.  Plus, we have no water because of the drought related to the global warming that you caused.

Thank you again for the letter, and we will be sure to ignore it.

Yours Truly,
Tha’ Ants

My letter

Dear Ants,

I didn’t know that you could read (or type), but wanted to thank you for the kind email in response to our note left on the kitchen counter and table.

Your points are well taken.  Accordingly, I trust that you were able to enjoy the container of beef brisket that someone left uncovered on the kitchen table last night.  Perhaps it was left as an expression of our understanding your viewpoint.

Upon arriving at the Center in the evening, I was slightly perturbed to find the food left out on the table.  Now, with the expanded perspective engendered by your letter, I realize that the food allowed you to fulfill your role of cleaning up after us, particularly since we don’t seem to be able to do that ourselves.  What “wonderful service” you offer indeed!

I suppose that the package of chocolate chip cookies, left next to the brisket (along with crumbs scattered all helter-skelter), was a fine dessert; I regret that we left only three cookies for your enjoyment.  I erroneously thought that having “Youth Activity” written on the top of the package would ensure the integrity of the package until the time of said Youth Activity, but, alas, it did not.  Nor did the label evoke a sufficient feeling of guilt on the guilty party, evidenced by his/her/their eating all but a few cookies. Nevermind the fact that the package was hidden in the pantry.

The bastards.

I suppose, had we left more for you, you could have saved us from polluting our bodies with such chemical- and chocolate-laden treats even more than you did.  Regardless, thank you for your efforts.