Close call with death

So. Last night I managed to almost poison myself by eating ant killer. I mean, clearly I survived, unless I am blogging from beyond the grave… oOOOooOOoOooOoo… but I’m not, so that’s just stupid. But then again, licking ant killer wasn’t much less stupid. Quite stupid actually.

And how, may you ask, did I do that? Well. I’m not known for my on-to-it-ness (case in point: can’t think of a bloody word to explain that, even though I know there is one), and my lack of coordination is the subject of much peer ridicule, so it’s not entirely out of this realm of possibility that I would meet my demise by doing something as gumby as licking poison.

Anywayyyy… I am staying at a friend’s place, and managed to leave enough kid-crumbs on the bench that hoardes of frigging ants invaded every possible space on the bench and forced me to commit ant-genocide by hand. And then my rampage continued further by the placement of ant poison on little plastic lids. I did question its efficacy at the time, ants aren’t silly you know, and ultimately had an inkling that it would be me that would somehow ending up paying for my willingness to kill such a fabulous creature as the ant. But still, I put out the poison.

The first day I managed to put Hannah’s toast in the damn poison but realised before I poisoned the kid and threw it out. The second day I almost washed the lid as I was doing the dishes. And then the third day I apparently emptied a plastic bag and left it crumpled on the bench where it remained for another day (I’m SO tidy. And let’s not get started on the fact that I had a plastic bag. Sometimes you get caught without your fancy reusable bags… or the person serving you has so lovingly already placed your items in a bag before you can say “I’m saving the world! Please don’t use a bag!” and is smiling at you and holding out your neatly packed bag, so all you can really do is mumble “Thank you” and take your plastic bag and your eco-guilt and leave the store), lying on top of the ant-poison lid thing.

Little did I remember, but the plastic bag was concealing the ant-trap-of-doom. And when I was tidying up the following night, I picked up the bag and put it in the plastic bag holdery thing (for REUSING people. I am still saving the world a little bit). As I was cleaning up I noticed I had something sticky on my hand, and doing what you always do, suspecting it was honey [despite the fact that there was no bloody honey consumed in the house this week!], I gave it the “Lick Test”. Strangely enough, it didn’t taste like honey. It didn’t really taste that great at all. I thought maybe it was oil after that, but then I came across the lid and the trail of anty poisony stuff on the bench and my life flashed before my eyes.

I paused a moment from the life-flashing business to text Dion that I had just poisoned myself as if I were an ant, you know, if he started to get worried when I failed to make contact in the next week or so. I have no doubts that the kid would survive, she knows how to make cornflakes. And she wouldn’t be so idiotic to lick ant poison from the bench, so she was alright. But anyway, the text; I realised it was a tad pointless texting as my phone battery was almost flat. So even if I remained alive, I STILL wouldn’t be able to text due to dead phone so would have just caused unnecessary panic.

Right. Anyway. Sense prevailed and I climbed up to the top of the pantry to check the back of the box to see how many minutes I had before I started convulsing or whatever happens to victims of ant-poison licking. I found it and read, holding my breath in suspense as I did so.

But fuck me if it just says “If ingested, may irritate the nose and throat.”

May irritate the nose and throat?!?!

That’s not going to kill any damn ants!

Or humans… but I’m mostly outraged because of the ants! I wanted to get rid of them!

So anyway. I drank a cup of water and decided maybe I wasn’t going to die afterall. Woke up this morning and I’m fine. No irritation of anything… well… apart from the mind, having to have gone through all that.

And you know what? I realised I haven’t seen any bloody ants for the last few days. I think they know my intentions. Ah well. Serves the same purpose.

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7 thoughts on “Close call with death

  1. Hee hee hee hee hee…I'm sorry, I shouldn't giggle at your gumby-ness, but it is a giggle of solidarity from a fellow gumby…though I have yet to lick poison. For all your unco-ness (apparently I'm making up words today too) I love the way you tell a story πŸ™‚

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  2. It does remind me of when you were 3 and ate a handfull of worm tablets for the sheepdogs….your mother was convinced you were about to die she rang the special help line and while on hold heard the doctor say to the help nurse “tell her to give her a human worm tablet as well and then we can definitely be sure she doesnt have any worms” and the nurse saying ” i will not tell her that!”

    So you have survived worse!

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  3. glad to hear you survived! (and hopefully are still worm-free πŸ˜‰ )

    if it makes you feel better, my dad (a qualified chemist – the lab kind, not the pharmacy variety) once ingested a *large* amount of mercury. he's never actually admitted how he did it though πŸ˜‰

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