Ethel, the elderly lady next door, waved me over as I was checking the mailbox this afternoon. She wanted to know if I could remove a beehive for her – perhaps she’d overheard me professing my concerns about the global demise of bees, although she’s fairly deaf, so I doubt it.
Regardless, I told her it wasn’t really my thing (a roundabout way of saying that I wouldn’t have the foggiest idea where to start), but she seemed quite bothered by her insect issues, so I finally agreed to go and have a look. Well, the hive was completely out of my reach and really didn’t seem like anything to worry about. However, I did notice a trail of ants promenading out of her kitchen window.
We went inside and I had a closer look. The ants were coming from a crack in the wall next to the stove. I told her I could help her by getting someone in to exterminate the ants, as they seemed like a more significant problem than the bees. Ethel just smiled and offered me a cup of tea.
I took that as a go-ahead, and went about searching for Berwick pest control services on my phone while Ethel rustled up some biscuits. By the time everything had been arranged, it was nearly dark, so I headed back towards my house. As I waved goodbye, Ethel inquired as to how my termite problem was getting on.
I told her I didn’t have one, and she assured me I did – my landlord’s daughter had told her about it. News to me! No wonder my allergies have been playing up this year. I’m about to write a strongly worded email to my real estate agent and demand that she book a termite inspection. Frankston was bad enough for termites, at least in the street I lived on. Not again!
When I take on a lease, I always check in with the real estate about potential allergens, and somehow they always manage to overlook the termites in their response. Every time!