Ormigas

I learned how to say “ants” this week. Ormigas. It’s a word I won’t be forgetting because it’s surrounded by a seriously gross event.

Last night, I was skyping a friend out on the patio. I had made decaf coffee and across the miles the two of us were having a cup together. At one point the internet went out so I went inside to get another cup of coffee. I didn’t bother to turn on the light. I’m not really sure why, but I just didn’t.

            After I’d poured the cup and added the cream and sugar, Lissete arrived home. “Why are you in the dark?” she asked as she switched on the light. I didn’t have a good answer, but at this moment I looked down at my cup of coffee. Little black dots that didn’t exactly appear to be coffee grounds were swirling in the recently stirred coffee.

            I freaked out as I saw hundreds of tiny ants crawling all over the counter. We deduced that the ants must have been on the spoon I stirred my coffee with.

            Oh, the little moments that impact us so much. If Lissete hadn’t arrived home to turn on the light, I might have been drinking the ants rather than pouring them down the kitchen sink.

            This was the exciting event of an otherwise uneventful week.