My little house has been invaded by ants. Not tiny ones either. They are the size of wasps, but there's a few of those too. I trapped one between the screen and the window and I won't open that one til the damn thing stops buzzing.
New Hampshire has been invaded by motorcycle enthusiasts. They come up here every year for the races, for something called Motorcycle Weekend. But then they stopped going to races so much and the weekend stretched into week. There is horrible traffic everywhere, kind of like orientation days at NAU. So many loud, noisy motorcycles. It excites me.
A lot of residents of Center Harbor use this week as vacation time. So they're off wherever. My cousins went to Africa for two weeks. I'll be pretty bored without them.
My grandpa bought a motorcycle off a guy who needed money. Got it for $150. It would be an easier way for me to get around, but my grandma opposes the idea. I called my father, and for some reason he does too. He had a motorcycle when he was my age, but no, I can't have one. My grandfather and (for some reason) my mother both think it's a great, economical plan. The others think I will kill myself and are lecturing me like I'm a child, independent of intelligent decision making. I haven't even seen the damn thing yet and it's already caused me enough drama for one week.
Other types of invasion? When I was last here, there were dozens of chipmunks living in the woods, but most of them have been killed by stray cats. There's only one chipmunk left. My grandpa really likes to feed the birds and squirrels and chipmunks, so he hates these cats and shoots them with his .22. He was bragging to grandma about how he's hit this one cat three separate times. He says he saw this cat limping around and now he hasn't seen it for a week, so he assumes it's dead.
The other cat, he really did kill. He shot it in the head to kill it mercifully (or if you prefer, quickly). Then he put it in a sack and gave it to a friend as a gift. It was pretty funny to me, and I hope you don't think my grandfather is cruel just because he kills cats. But I'm not really writing any of this in a way that defends him.
Anyway, I took a walk in the middle of the night, during a light rain. I don't know what it was, but it was terrifying. Paranoid and not of the dark or the woods. It was something inside. I came back and heard something in the trashcan. It leapt out at me and I hit it with my cane and it ran into the woods. It was that damn cat, still breathing.
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