It Was Moscato.

I've recently found out that my brother's house has the occasional large, black ant.

By occasional, I mean I see one to two a day.

For someone afraid of spiders, I tend to go overkill when I see a black moving thing out of the corner of my eye. By the time I've panicked and used the nearest hard object to Hulk Smash, I then realize it was unnecessary to have my heart rate raised to that of a marathon runner because it was an ant. Not a spider.

It's become a serious problem.

The ants come no matter how much I clean. Most of it happens because I am not around enough to also clean after my roommate, who is keen on leaving any and all of his dishes right next to the dishwasher rather than placing them inside. They sit out all day, I get home late to not even glance in the kitchen practically every day of the week...

I'll get to my point. Today is Friday. I am a single twenty-six year old with nothing holding me back. Let me tell you about my day.

I was done with work at 2pm today, so a coworker and I decided to have a late lunch with wine and a good meal since we had just purchased Justin Timberlake tickets (mother fucking damn straight, ya'll). Giggling like school girls, we dined in style, then cheered to a good weekend.

I then proceeded with the adult life I now apparently lead:

1) I went to pay rent at the nearby grocery store, as that's where my brother banks, then bought shampoo, popcorn, and a set of blank cards that I found adorable and already own fifty of (I have more than an ant smashing problem, but correspondence doesn't seem to be one of them).

2) I drove home like a priest going to church as a state trooper was behind me the whole way home.

3) Found another damn ant that caused a last straw snap for the week.

4) Went from clearing the dishes to wiping down the counters to getting onto my hands and knees to bleach wash the kitchen and dining and entryway floor after a good vacuuming.

5) That led into the living room to dust (my least favorite anything ever) and make better since the week seemed to be tough on it.

6) Went a step further and planted a slew of pansies I got for free from work on our porch--and since I didn't have a proper planting shovel, used the pumpkin carving scoop located in our silverware drawer (the priorities in this household are NOT skewed).

7) Went even further to do my weekly scrub down of the shower, bath counters, and toilets (my second least favorite chore)--and cut my pointer finger on the drain guard when trying to clean that. Used Candyland band-aids my coworker got me for Christmas.

8) After completely finished and tired from scrubbing and making the house, yet again, more my home, I lay on my bed to think and heard the shouts, laughter, and sounds of children playing in the streets. I realized that I was the exact opposite of those children at that moment, and began determining whether or not I was an old twenty-six, and how to rectify that.

9) I proceeded to give myself a Russian tarot reading because I was too lazy to determine anything except what type of wine to have tonight. My playlist decided melancholy would be appropriate.

10) Realized that what I wanted to do was go out tonight, but all of my close friends are all married and too busy being adults to hang out. So, I began watching 30 Rock instead.

11) 30 Rock caused me to think of myself like Liz Lemon. Again, started re-evaluating life decisions.

12) Had second glass of wine.

13) Thought it'd be a good idea to write about all of this. Am currently re-evaluating that.

Through the midst of this, in the cleanest of houses, I found another ant. I give up on life and proclaim the gods have the best sense of humor.