The crumbs are their enemy.
And the hair.
And the dust.
No matter how often she reaches for the vacuum cleaner, it is as if there is a curse on the apartment, because the adversaries are back immediately.
The crumbs sit maliciously under the dining table, the hair provokes in groups in the bathroom, and the dust spreads grinning on the black bedside table.
"Well," he calls out to her, "did you miss me?"
Kim Maurus
Volunteer.
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Her friends are already laughing at her. Instead of vacuuming, mopping, or scrubbing all the time, they say relax. But what do they know? As soon as she takes a break, the enemies are back. Eliminating them is Sisyphean work. She has to do it again tomorrow. And then again. And again. It's tiring, just as a never-ending battle is. Your only hope is that the partner may get ahead of you. That is the kind of hope that persists, even though it is disappointed anew every week. The enemies just don't bother the partner that much. He doesn't even see her! Or he says: "Oh, that's enough tomorrow or the day after tomorrow."
What a fool!
Who is waiting for the opponents to multiply?
Until the opponents not only wait on the floor and the shelf, but keep pushing forward, into the last corner of the apartment, where you can no longer see them and drive them away?
Recently, for example, she found a piece of onion peel in the bedroom.
And then, on top of that, a hair in the fridge.
To make matters worse, then there is also the summer vacation, actually a reason to be happy.
But she ends up on the campsite, where the enemies come particularly close.
In the tent you are, so to speak, surrounded by them.
At the beginning she struggles to fight them here too. Your latest opponent is now the grass, which keeps popping up in the tent. And everywhere there are sand, stones, earth, all the dirt now even clings to it (!). But the antagonists are overwhelming. All you have to do is give up and just give it a try: relax and ignore the dirt.
But then she is amazed to find that the crumbs have simply disappeared under her rickety camping table without lifting a finger. This time, she actually got help, and that from an enemy of all people, whom she fears almost more than the dirt at home in her apartment. On the lawn in front of their tent, ants actually clear away the crumbs. “So that's how it is,” she thinks, “when you ally yourself with one enemy against the other.” And still hopes that none of the crawly animals get lost in her luggage when she leaves.