Ants in My Pants

When I was driving home from work yesterday, I was a bit of a zombie. After driving on the highway during rush hour traffic on a Friday, I was just thinking about getting home. Inching closer to my refrigerator as the salad I had for lunch wasn't holding its own anymore. Even with the air conditioning on, there's no real way to beat the Arizona sun coming in through the driver's side window in June. The radio only seemed to by playing the same Katy Perry and Black Eyed Peas songs that had been on constant rotation since they were released months ago. My brain was officially out.

I finally found my off ramp, coasted along the frontage road, and sighed with relief that I only had about another five minutes of driving left.

My moment of relief was rudely interrupted when something suddenly stabbed me in the stomach. I thought maybe there had been a twig on my shirt and I shifted and it poked me, but then my skin on my belly started to tingle. I lifted up my shirt at a red light and found a big red welt.

Somehow, in the middle of traffic on a Friday afternoon, an ant had gotten in my car and bitten my belly.

The worst part was that I was still in traffic, five minutes from home, and I had no idea with there were somehow more ants in my car. I started freaking out, constantly wiggling and scratching so even if there were more, they couldn't get me!

Once I got home, stripped off my clothes, and inspected myself, I was lucky to only have the one bite. The major downside to this stupid bite, though, is that I am now acutely aware of how tight my clothes are and how often they rub on my stomach. My run this morning was mis-er-a-ble. And I am really not looking forward to forcing myself into Spanx for the wedding I'm going to this evening, ugh.