I was walking past our dining room the other day when I noticed what I thought was a small pile of dust on the hardwood floor. I got a paper towel and wiped it up. Within a few hours, the pile was back and, underneath it, a tiny hole in the floor. Still clueless, I wiped away the “dust” yet again. I was watching TV when it dawned on me: THAT WASN’T DUST – IT WAS A SAWDUST!
I called the exterminator and described what I saw and he uttered the words everyone dreads: “Sounds like drywall termites.”
I gulped and said, “What happens next?”
“We need to come out and do a complete inspection.”
“And if you find the termites?”
“We’ll need to tent the house.”
Tent the house. Right.
They’ll make us pack everything up and move out for a couple of days while the place gets fumigated. I seriously don’t want this to happen. I have a book to write. I hate being uprooted. I can’t stand the thought of my dishes and linens and everything else having toxic chemicals on them. I won’t want to breathe. The whole thing is gross, but I guess termites are more gross.
Anyhow, the bug guys are coming Friday so I’ll know more then.