Ants in my Pants

It was a Friday like any other. Just another day of the week, only the best day of the work week because there is two days of nothingness to look forward to, owing to which I was in a more positive mood than usual. I was in the office transport van, sitting on the front seat, looking out the window, when I had the uncomfortable realization that there was definitely an ant in my pants. Possibly two even.

I tried very hard not to visibly squirm, although all my energy was going into not getting up suddenly, not violently scratching, or just putting my hand inside my jeans to get the damn thing out. I could even feel the ant make lethargic circles on my butt. I tried to look at the guy sitting next to me from the corner of my eye, just to check and see if my body language was attracting attention in anyway. No movement there, so I was in good control.

I kept wondering and imagining the worse. What if the ant went ahead and bit in so badly that I just absolutely had to pull my pants down. I tried to wiggle my bum a little, only to lead the ant into a far worse direction. I instinctively tried the kegel to ensure it didn’t travel any further. I noticed that I was clenching my palms and teeth. On one hand I was imagining the worse, and on the other, I found it incredibly hilarious and couldn’t wait to tell the husband. It was exactly the kind of thing he finds funny and believes can only happen to me.

I don’t know for how long this episode lasted. But as usual, the stream of consciousness took over and the ant was only at the starting point of it, it disappeared somewhere along the way. 🙂

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