My tails of woe-lets

My problems are too little to be capital W Woes.  They are just woe-lets. Therefore, my tales of woe are just tails of woe-lets, especially since the doctor asked me to draw a spiral, but I thought she said spider. Well, sure, I can draw a spider, but the real problem is the ants.

What ants? The tiny ants displaced and irritable about the foundation repairs to the apartment building.

Hmm. The doctor made notes on the chart, and scheduled a hearing test, even though I have a vision appointment next week between the mammogram and the dermatologist.


I can draw spirals on the ends of my toes to look like the tails of woeful piglets. It's not so easy, though, to take toe self-photos of those tails of woe-lets.


The front end of a pig looks like a snorting button, but the tail end is a spiral in a circle. The best diagnosis is I've forgotten my problems by writing my petty piggy toe woes.

© 2013-2018 Nancy L. Ruder


No user ID, no password

"Excuse me, ma'am. Can you show me how to open this newspaper?'

The polite young man wanted to "access" the Dallas Morning News editions from April first and April fourth. He needed to write about Martin Luther King for English class, and cite the page numbers in his bibliography.

We found an empty space on the counter where we could unfold the newspaper and turn the pages. I explained he could either photocopy the news stories about MLK's legacy or scan them and email to himself. "Thanks, but I will take photos with my phone," he said. 

When he was finished taking photos he brought all the sections back to me to reassemble the issues and reshelve them in the Periodicals Room. I felt like a prehistoric flintknapper. What's black and white and read all over? Not any more.

© 2013-2018 Nancy L. Ruder


When ants can't shampoo

In the middle of the annual bathroom tiny ant invasion the apartment complex was sold. New owners, new management, same social insects. The new managers are tackling the foundation problems, the plumbing leaks, and quickly learning they are the proud owners of a large fixer-upper built atop a massive ant hill.

This isn't a luxury apartment community bursting with amenities, no matter how you spin it. This is just a reasonably safe and affordable spot in the city I've called home since 1990. So in springtime when the water is turned off to fix leaks, the ants and I can't shampoo. No Head & Shoulders knees and toes, knees and toes, knees and toes--ants have six legs, of course.

Ask me about ant-induced irritability.

© 2013-2018 Nancy L. Ruder