Monsters in the Attic
Friday, 4 September 2008
There are things in my ceiling.
Carpenter ants, at the very least. Spiders too. And mysterious squeak-skritching things, that prove their otherwise-invisible existence with night sounds and falling detritus.
Because my ceiling refuses to meet walls along at least 90% of my room’s perimeter, I have a Problem. Not a big one, compared to the horror stories I receive periodically, in 160 characters or less, via SMS (PCV communication form of choice). But a problem nonetheless. Lines of big black ants appear magically overnight, resistant to insecticide and capable of chewing my windowsill to dust. Spiders sneak impudently along the tops of walls, invading my nightmares from just beyond the reach of a broom. And, most frustrating, the dust and dirt and bits of chewed wood and decrepit spidersweb falls sporadically out of the cracks, showering down my walls with the sound of soft rain. Sweeping and spraying and cleaning and cursing does little. Last week I gave up, and decided to Do Something.
If I were back in the States, this would have meant driving down to the local mega-hardware store, standing in the (air-conditioned) isle devoted to sealants, leisurely choosing one of the dozens of caulk varieties available, driving home, and - aided by a sturdy stepladder - in the space of an hour the problem would be solved. Alternatively, if I were to be really lazy, I would have grabbed that ladder and a roll of duct tape, and the solution would’ve been no less functional for its inelegance.
…But I’m not back in the States. So this is what really happened:
- I send a text to my nearest neighbor venting my buggy frustration. We take a trip to Cape Coast, the nearest city, in search of a solution.
- There are no mega-hardware centers in Cape. There are not even mini-hardware centers. The closest things are the paint-and-plaster sellers, in their little market stalls along the main road. I begin my search with them.
- Some time later I decide “caulking” is impossible to explain across language and cultural boundaries, and start just describing my problem. I am offered plaster and paint, predictably, neither of which will suit my needs. I walk on.
- After a stop for lunch, I end up buying a 10m roll of roofing tape: 4″-wide, silver-backed, rubbery-sticky goodness, intended for all-weather permanently-adhered use among roofing shingles, but the best solution to my problem that I can find. A bit of overkill, maybe, but at least a potentially workable solution. The roll costs 13ghc, which makes me cry a little on the inside. I focus on my shiny, spider-free, future.
- After returning home, it takes me a further three days to work up the willpower and courage to construct a tower of desk, plastic lawn chair (aka “My Desk Chair”), and stool: my ceiling slants from 10′ to 11′ above solid ground, and stepladders exist as mere beings of myth.
- It takes most of the morning, but with 10m of tape I am able to tape the worst of the cracks, covering 75% of the perimeter. It takes another hour to clean up the mess that has resulted on ground level.
- After deconstructing the Tower, I collapse with shaky legs onto my bed, and proceed to blog the experience. Fin.
Oh, Ghana. Source of Frustration, Motherland of Invention, Buggy Wonderland… and I never cease to find pleasure in conquering your latest whim. Bring it on.
