You Say Potato. I Say, I Think it Used To Be Onions.

Mark denies it, denies it, denies it, but he is a hoarder. Not the tiny paths through the house with crap piled on either side kind of hoarder, but a hoarder none the less. One thing he hoards is food. Our kitchen is overflowing with food because Mark likes to "stock up". He will buy multiples if something is on sale. The problem is that we have nowhere to put it. About a month ago I made the mistake of putting some red onions Mark bought, into a canister marked Potatoes. So of course the next time Mark went shopping he bought more red onions. Meanwhile the red onions in the ceramic canister slowly went bad. Yesterday, just kind of matter of factly,  Mark told me to throw out whatever was in that canister. Now I had noticed some little bugs flying around the kitchen but there was no smell, not until I opened up that canister. There were no onions in that canister anymore, only a gooey, soupy mess along with hundreds of little flies. That's the problem with Florida, we never get that cold weather that kills off all the vermin. They just keep on reproducing, spreading, and invading all year long. And speaking of vermin, we still have a tick problem. I have doused the dogs with all kinds of poisons, bombed the house, and just for fun I bought a can of Raid that says it is specifically for killing fleas and ticks. I took that can of Raid and sprayed down everything in the house, paying special attention to the rugs, bed, and the big fluffy chair. It didn't help. Yesterday morning Mark let out a howl, "Get it off me, get it off, good lord get this thing off me." Mark had found a tick on his arm. So I plucked it off of him, grabbed the can of Raid, and went into the  bathroom. After putting the tick in the sink I sprayed it with a generous amount of Raid for ticks and fleas. I assumed that the Raid was meant to kill ticks. I was wrong, the filthy thing seemed to be enjoying it. It was literally swimming in the stuff, doing the breast stroke I believe. When the poison spray drained away the tick then started to trudge back up the side of the sink towards me, as if looking for another warm body to cuddle up to. I squished it. Wednesday the exterminator is coming again. This time we will have to leave the house for four hours while they bomb it again. During those four hours I intend to drop the dogs off at the groomers for bathes, while Mark and I see what it's like to drink with the old alcoholics that like to start before noon.